Before I Die
by I've-Gotta-Be-Me
Summary: NOT Angst - Blaine is curious about what other things are on Kurt Hummel's bucket list. When they realize that the time to start in on having fun and being silly is now rather than later, they begin crossing a lot of things off their lists. Together.
1. Baking and Blankets

_November 9th, 2011_

Kurt could feel someone's eyes on him even before he opened them. Keeping his eyes closed, he shifted slightly, drawing a knee closer to his chest and moving his arm by just a fraction. He smiled to himself as he felt the circle of Blaine's arms readjust around him, taking his every movement into account.

He took a deep breath, feeling Blaine's chest pressed against his back. He pulled the sheets closer around him, snuggling closer. Taking a deep breath through the nose, Kurt allowed himself to drown in the delectable scent that was Blaine. It was spicy, musky, inimitable. It made him feel at home. And lying here in Blaine's bed, he felt more at home than ever. He didn't want to break the comfortable silence.

"I know you're awake," Blaine murmured from behind him.

Kurt couldn't help but love the way he could feel each breath and syllable and the way it reverberated through Blaine's body. It was a soft, low humming that pulsated across the surface of their joined skin.

Blaine was pressing soft, lazy kisses to the back of Kurt's neck, occasionally nipping at his ear and nuzzling the skin with his nose.

"I am," Kurt replied. "But I don't want to move."

Suddenly he felt Blaine getting out of the bed.

"Wait," Kurt whined, reaching his arm out behind him only to feel empty space. "I didn't mean for _you_ to move. Get back here."

"Scoot over," Blaine ordered.

He had come around to the opposite side of the bed and was now getting in next to Kurt so that they were facing one another.

Kurt blinked, eyelids heavy with sleep. He felt Blaine's fingers slip through his own, squeezing his fingertips lightly as they did so.

"Good morning," Blaine murmured, a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

Kurt smiled back. "Good morning."

Blaine's free hand reached out, his thumb tracing Kurt's cheekbone. He leaned in and gave Kurt the most impossibly sweet, tender kiss. Kurt sighed contentedly, shifting closer to press his lips more firmly against Blaine's. His boyfriend's leg was hitched over his own and he could feel it tense up as he parted his lips. Blaine let out a barely-audible moan as Kurt's tongue traced the edges of his lips lightly before covering it with his own. Kurt drew in a sharp breath as Blaine sucked on his tongue so unhurriedly that it made his toes curl.

Kurt was the one to pull away, pressing his forehead against Blaine's and just breathing him in, his own hand braced on Blaine's shoulder. He bit his lip as he listened to the soft symphony of their synonymous breaths, how they gradually slowed down at the same rate, as if they were one person.

"I could get used to this," Kurt mumbled.

Blaine chuckled, "So could I."

He licked his lips and stared into Kurt's eyes, neither of them speaking again. It was understood that they were both remembering the previous night; that much was obvious by their shining irises and not-so-secretive smiles. Kurt moved in closer, caressing Blaine's calf with his toes; gently, slowly tantalizing. He felt Blaine shudder in his arms, gaze occasionally flickering down to Kurt's lips, his jaw, his bare chest.

Kurt moved his hand from Blaine's shoulder to trace the lines of his chest, of his arms, until finally reaching his fingers. Their palms hovered over one another, the fingertips barely grazing each other as they slowly intertwined together in their familiar grasp.

"So I can check this off the list then," Kurt mused aloud.

Blaine furrowed his eyebrows. "What list?"

"My bucket list," Kurt replied. "Number fifteen – Wake up next to the person I love."

Without waiting for a reply from Blaine, Kurt leaned forward and captured his lips in a second, slightly steamier kiss. He felt a sense of self-satisfaction when he heard Blaine groan into his mouth and felt him tilt his head to offer Kurt more control. Kurt pressed their connected hands to Blaine's chest as he allowed his teeth to rake lightly over Blaine's bottom lip. Blaine's knee was between his legs, rubbing oh-so-surreptitiously against Kurt's inner thighs. Kurt loved the noises they made together – the sighs, the sound of their limbs moving against the bedding, the quiet noise of skin on skin, the way their lips joined and parted from one another.

He pressed one final kiss to Blaine's lips before drawing back.

"Check," he said.

Blaine beamed at him, stroking the hair that curled just over the edges of Kurt's ears, brushing it away from his face.

"Anything else on this list I can help out with?" he teased.

Kurt seemed to consider it for a moment. "Probably not. But let's look anyways."

He quirked an eyebrow before propping himself up on an elbow and reaching over Blaine towards the bedside table. Doing so proved a much more difficult task than he'd originally thought. His fingertips barely scraped the edge of the tabletop. Disappointed, but not defeated, Kurt hitched a leg over Blaine's hips, settling himself atop his boyfriend so that he could easily reach over and snatch up the phone.

As he directed himself to the bucket list, he felt Blaine's hands resting lightly on his thighs, thumbs rubbing lightly against the skin. Kurt sat back, scrolling through the list, reading a few items to himself.

"Most of these will probably never happen," he admitted. "But they're fun to think about."

"Like what?" Blaine asked, amused by his boyfriend's enthusiasm.

"Okay like this one," Kurt said, pausing mid-scroll. "Find a cure for cancer."

"Of course," Blaine agreed.

Kurt giggled to himself. "Be on a billboard of my choice." He scrolled down a little further. "Star in a movie with Meryl Streep _and_ in another with Heath Ledger."

"Well…"

"Shhh," Kurt said, pressing a finger to Blaine's lips. "He lives on through his films." He looked back to his phone. "Ah. Here's a good one. Become a neurosurgeon."

"You'd look adorable in scrubs," Blaine consented.

"It might sound silly, but I like putting things on this list that I know I can't achieve. It's like I'm daring myself to live life to the fullest," Kurt pondered aloud.

"May I?" Blaine asked politely, holding a palm out.

Kurt smiled. "Certainly."

He loved how Blaine always asked permission, never took as if what was Kurt's automatically belonged to him. He placed the phone in Blaine's hand before lying back down next to him.

Blaine scrolled through the list, laughing occasionally at a few items.

"Kurt…" he began. "A lot of these are do-able. Why haven't you started on them yet?"

Kurt pulled the blankets up to his chin, giving it some serious thought. "I guess because we're so young. I mean, we're still in school, we never have any free time. Plus I wouldn't want to just spring any of these on you."

"You said 'we.'" Blaine observed.

Kurt blushed. "Well, yeah. I mean, if I want to start crossing things off my bucket list, the only person I could go through half of these things with is you, Blaine."

There was a pause as they let his words sink in.

"Let's do it," Blaine said. "Let's get rid of some of these things on your bucket list so that you have room to put on new things."

"No, we couldn't…" Kurt argued.

"Why not?" Blaine asked. He turned over so that he was looking Kurt in the eyes. "Look, people create lists like these all the time and they never do half of the things they want to. They think that a bucket list is for far in the future when they're older and just have endless time and go on a bunch of adventures. Well, newsflash, you're never going to have enough time. From this point on in our lives we're only going to get _busier_. So let's live a little, do stupid things. Come on, it'll be fun."

"I don't know…"

"Don't wait until it's too late, Kurt," Blaine told him. "What if you were to die tomorrow? Would you have accomplished everything you wanted to? What if you were to – heaven forbid – contract a fatal disease, or what if you inherit your dad's heart problems? You don't have infinite time, you know? What if you have fewer days than you think you do?"

"_Blaine_…"

"I just…" Blaine took a deep breath. "I just want us to do as much as we can together and I want to live in the now. Not in the future – not in the _plausible_. Right now, while we can. Let's just go for it – even if we only make fools out of ourselves."

There was a silence as Kurt considered it. He kept looking from Blaine to the phone, then back again. "…Maybe _some_ of these things are do-able," he relented.

"And they'll make for some great dates," Blaine teased.

Kurt smiled. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," Blaine responded, pressing a light kiss to Kurt's nose. He handed the phone back.

"Well, geez," Kurt said. "I don't even know where to begin."

"I do," Blaine said with a smile. "Number 22."

* * *

><p><em>#22. Make Up a Recipe<em>

* * *

><p>"Okay, I'm just going to say it," Kurt blurted out as he put on the apron Blaine had tossed him. "I have no idea what I'm doing."<p>

"Me either," Blaine replied. "Just go with it."

The pair were in Blaine's kitchen, which was unreasonably huge, considering no one Kurt knew of actually cooked in it. Blaine had informed him that it was "all for show", but it still took his breath away all the same. The countertops were black granite marble, smooth to the touch without a mark on them (that, Kurt knew, was about to be quickly remedied). Every appliance was stainless steel, shimmering almost menacingly in the light emitting from the small crystal chandelier hanging over the island in the center of the kitchen.

Blaine was perched on a stool on one side of the island, looking incredibly handsome in a black shirt and dark denim jeans beneath an apron of his own. He was flipping through a cook book with an adorably confused expression on his face. In preparation for the evening, he'd pulled every single kitchen appliance he could find from the drawers and cabinets along with every raw ingredient available.

Kurt was currently taking inventory of the ingredients, sneaking a chocolate chip every now and then as he did so.

"This is ridiculous," he proclaimed. "All we're going to end up doing is making a huge mess." When he saw Blaine reading the cook book he tisked aloud. "No no no," he said, going over and prying the book away from Blaine. "The point of this exercise is _not _to follow any known recipe."

"Not even as a…guideline?" Blaine asked.

"Not even as a guideline," Kurt echoed, pressing a quick kiss to Blaine's surprised lips.

"Alright," Blaine said, getting up and taking action. "First, the vital question: entrée or dessert?"

Kurt bit his nails nervously. He knew he'd regret it once he got home and got a good look at his nail beds.

"Dessert," he decided at last. "I'm no aspiring chef, I could never make a main dish if my life depended on it." He put his hands on his hips. "But baking – there's something I can fake."

"Well that shouldn't be too hard, right?" Blaine asked. "We can just throw a bunch of sweet stuff in a bowl, mix it together, and call it a night." He didn't sound too hopeful. "Right?"

"You keep thinking that, honey," Kurt replied as he rolled up the sleeves of his brown shirt up to his elbows. "Alright, every good baked food needs flour," he declared.

Blaine handed him the bag of flour. "The question is how _much_?"

"And what a good question that is…" Kurt stalled, the measuring cup in his hand poised over the bag opening. "Oh what the hell," he declared after a moment, picking up the bag and dumping a good third of its contents into the big bowl.

Blaine laughed at him, which got him a well-deserved pinch of flour to the face.

"Eggs," Kurt ordered.

Blaine returned from the fridge with a carton of eggs. Together, they cracked five or six eggs on the edge of the bowl, the sticky shells discarded on the previously clean countertop.

"Sugar," Blaine chimed in.

They exchanged a look before racing for the bag of sugar on the opposite countertop. Kurt reached it first, pumping his fist in the air triumphantly.

"Ha!" he cried.

Blaine, one step ahead of him, raced back to the bowl, snatching it up off the counter and positioning himself on the other side of the island, using it as a barrier.

"Can't put the sugar in the bowl if you don't have the bowl," he goaded.

"Blaine _Anderson_," Kurt warned. "Get back here or else there will be sugar in those fermented curls on your head."

"I will, if you consider a treaty," Blaine announced.

"What are the terms of this 'treaty'?" Kurt asked, his hand already in the bag of sugar.

Blaine considered for a moment. "The bowl. The bowl for a kiss," he said.

Kurt pretended to mull it over, tilting his head from side to side as if contemplating the pros and cons of the situation.

"Well, I guess those are pretty good terms," he allowed. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," Blaine repeated, coming back aground the island with the bowl. He set it on the counter gingerly.

Kurt began to lean in, a smirk on his face.

"You'd better make it a good one," Blaine teased.

"As if there were any other kind," he replied.

"I guess there isn't," Blaine murmured as he closed the gap.

The heat Kurt felt in the pit of his stomach was very different from the warmth exuding from the preheating oven nearby. He took a step closer, pressing their aproned chests flush together with a bang. Blaine opened his mouth wider, allowing Kurt inside. He complied, his heart skipping a beat when their tongues met. Blaine's hand was pressed against the small of his back, the other on Kurt's waist, his fingertips meeting soft flesh where Kurt's shirt had ridden up slightly in the back.

Kurt moved his hand into Blaine's hair, his sugar-coated fingers intertwining in those curls he'd scorned just a second ago. When Blaine realized what was happening, he pulled away, a shocked expression adorning his face.

"_Kurt!_" he exclaimed, laughing as he did so. He touched a hand to the back of his head, tiny grains of sugar coming away on his fingertips as he did so. "You…you…_fiend_."

"Oops," was all Kurt said as he turned back to the bowl and dumped in an ungodly measurement of sugar.

He ignored Blaine's complaints as the boy tried, in vain, to pick the sugar out of his hair. He picked up a whisk and mixed the few ingredients they'd complied thus far. Once there wasn't a lump in sight, he looked at a few other ingredients on the counter, tossing a handful of those nearest into the bowl without looking at what the packages said.

Among the array of foods before him, there were all kinds of candy and snacks. Kurt opened a package of chocolate cookies and smashed them up in his hands, tossing the crushed mess into the bowl along with what appeared to be gummy bears, vanilla extract, peanuts, and pieces of a granola bar.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Blaine asked, still messing with his hair.

"Hush," Kurt reprimanded playfully. "The master is at work."

"_Okay_," Blaine said skeptically.

Kurt threw in everything from marshmallows, bits of candy bars, hot cocoa powder, and graham crackers to sprinkles, licorice bits, and even some more sugar.

"I'm going to be honest with you," Blaine said, peering into the bowl as he leaned against the counter. "I have no idea what's in there…but I'd eat it."

"Be a good boyfriend and hand me a pan to pour this in, will you?" Kurt asked.

After transferring the gooey, mostly brown mixture into a pan overly-coated with cooking spray, Kurt swiped a finger along the lip of the bowl. He stuck it in his mouth, licking his lips experimentally.

"Well?" Blaine prompted.

"Still too early to tell," he stated dumping the remaining marshmallows over the surface of the substance. "You're welcome to try though."

"I'll just wait for the finished product," Blaine said, placing the soiled bowl into the sink and rinsing it out. "How long are you going to leave it in the oven?"

"Thirty minutes?" Kurt guessed.

"So how do we kill thirty minutes?" Blaine asked as Kurt set the timer on the oven.

"Oh, I don't know," Kurt said mischievously.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, I have to go check the oven," Kurt panted. He was already regretting removing himself from Blaine's lips.<p>

"The timer hasn't gone off yet," Blaine murmured, tugging on the strap of Kurt's apron. "You can't miss the beep."

"I don't want to set your house on fire though," Kurt teased.

"Well if you do then I could just live on your couch," Blaine said happily, kissing Kurt's neck in just the right way. Kurt was weakening, that much was for certain.

"Your parents would never forgive me."

"They barely live here as it is," Blaine said, moving to the other side of Kurt's neck.

Kurt tilted his head to the right, exposing more skin for Blaine's tongue to skate across. Blaine's hand was clutching the back of Kurt's head, pulling him closer as his mouth trailed upwards. The second his lips touched Kurt's earlobes, Kurt knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Two more minutes," he said, giving in.

He grabbed either side of Blaine's face, crashing their lips together in desperate, hungry kisses. Blaine settled back against the pillows of his bed, pulling Kurt back on top of him. Kurt was kissing Blaine's lips, the line of his jaw, the hollow of his throat – whatever skin was closest. He was practically drowning in Blaine – the warmth of his body, his scent surrounding them both in his room, the addictive taste of his mouth. He couldn't get enough. He could never get enough.

Blaine's hands were under Kurt's shirt, stroking his skin with a ghost-like touch, running his fingernails slowly up and down Kurt's back. Up, up, up along the line of his spine, all the way to the nape of his neck, then down, down down, until his fingers were all but going down the waistband of Kurt's jeans. When his fingers did venture beneath said waistband, Kurt knew if he let it go any further, he wouldn't want to stop.

He pulled back, hating that he had to be the responsible one for a change.

"I really, _really_ have to check the oven now," he informed a sullen-looking Blaine.

"Damn, whose idea was this?" the other boy growled.

"Yours," Kurt said, placing one last, long kiss to Blaine's mouth. "Come on," he said at last, getting off the bed and heading toward the door.

"This dish better taste freaking delicious," Blaine called after him before following him back to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>"So it's a little burned around the edges," Kurt said with a shrug. "We could just eat from the middle."<p>

"Maybe it's a good thing we're sampling this on an empty stomach," Blaine pointed out, poking the slightly-browned marshmallow topping with his fork.

"Or maybe you're just being too judgmental," Kurt retorted. "It's all about what's on the _inside_."

"Kurt, we have no idea what _is_ on the inside."

"Good point."

They glanced at one another then back to the goopy surface of the baked concoction. Their forks were poised, ready to break the marshmallow layer.

"On the count of three," Kurt told Blaine, plunging his fork in an getting a decent sized chunk of…whatever it was.

"Alright," the smaller boy agreed, mimicking Kurt and getting some on his fork.

"1…" Kurt began.

"2…"

"3," they said in unison, their mouths closing over the forks.

They both chewed slowly, trying to assess what they'd just put in their mouths. Kurt watched as Blaine's expression went to intrigued, to impressed, then to disgusted all in the span of three seconds.

"I don't know what to think," Kurt admitted, having some trouble chewing his share. He crinkled his nose in distaste. "It's good at first, but then it gets a little…"

"Difficult?" Blaine supplied.

"Strange," Kurt said. "Oh my god, I think I have some bubblegum in mine." He brought a napkin up to his mouth and spat it out.

"It's not my fault," Blaine protested after bravely swallowing his half. "I warned you not to go near that package of Double Bubble."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh. The whole thing was completely ridiculous. He put his fork back on the counter as he doubled over in laughter.

"What's so funny?" Blaine asked, laughing because Kurt's laughter was one-hundred percent infectious.

"Mission accomplished," Kurt gasped.

"Are you serious?"

"I'm crossing this off my list," Kurt said, already scrolling through his phone.

"But that was a disaster. I mean, did you _taste_ it?"

"I said to make up a recipe. I never said it had to be a _good_ one," Kurt pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess," Blaine said. He dipped his fork back into the pan. "What?" he asked, seeing how Kurt was looking at him as if he'd said he enjoyed kicking baby penguins and harassing small children.

Kurt looked pointedly at Blaine's full fork hovering next to his open mouth.

"It's growing on me," Blaine grumbled, taking another bite. "Once you get past the layer of gummy bears and the lingering taste of peanut butter, it's not that horrible."

Kurt just continued watching him, a clearly unconvinced look on his face.

"I'll just…go order Chinese," Blaine said, abandoning the tray to find a phone book.

* * *

><p><em>#43 Build the World's Best Blanket Fort<em>

* * *

><p>Kurt positioned the chairs a perfect length apart. He and Blaine had gathered the biggest blankets, quilts, and comforters they could find, all folded neatly on the floor.<p>

"I've never done this before," Blaine admitted.

"I tried once," Kurt said. "It fell in on me. Traumatized me. But I think I'm finally ready to move on and give it the old college try." He chuckled to himself. "Who even came up with that phrase?" He pulled out his phone. "I'm adding it to the list right now. Number 206 - make up my own phrase. It will be spoken generations from now from the lips of children. Just some wacky phrase their grandparents used to say all the time."

Blaine just shook his head. "You can't argue with classic phrases, Kurt. Like 'it's raining cats and dogs' or 'the cat's meow'."

"The cat's meow?" Kurt asked as he and Blaine picked up the couch to move it aside.

"You know, it's like 'the bee's knees'."

"Use it in a sentence," Kurt requested as they moved the crystal coffee table to the corner where it wouldn't get hurt.

"That kid's shoes are the cat's meow."

"You're never allowed to say that again," Kurt declared.

They'd completely rearranged Blaine's living room so there was nothing but open space in the center. Right in front of the television. It was a primo spot, if you asked Kurt. With great difficulty, they managed to move a bookshelf to use as the backing for their fort, the book-side facing into the fort.

They unfolded one of the large, probably expensive blankets and between the two of them they lifted it up and let it gently drape across the span of the chairs and shelf. Two more blankets later and they had a sturdy looking fort.

"It's beautiful," Kurt said, taking a step back to look at their handiwork.

Blaine nodded. "My best work yet. But that's only half the battle. Now we have to figure out what's going inside of it. What will make this fort the best one ever?"

They thought for a second.

"We need food," Kurt announced. "We don't want to be getting in and out of the fort and going to the kitchen, therefore we need some way to store food. At least for a little while."

"I knew there was a reason why I loved you," Blaine teased, putting an arm around Kurt's waist. "We need somewhere to sit," he pointed out. "I know you, and after twenty minutes on this carpet you'll be complaining that you have a slipped disk or something."

"I'm a sensitive person," Kurt defended himself.

Blaine shushed him. "It's okay, I know." He furrowed his brows as he gave it some thought. "Do you think you and I could drag my mattress in there?"

"Wouldn't it have been wiser to do that _first_ then build the fort around it?" Kurt asked.

"We don't do things by the book here."

"You mean we don't do things logically," Kurt taunted him.

"Logical is boring," Blaine said. He gave Kurt's waist a squeeze. "Come on. Let's drag us a mattress in here."

* * *

><p>"Mattress," Blaine said.<p>

"Check."

"Cooler for the refrigerated foods."

"Check."

"Pizza."

"Check."

"Other junk food."

"Check."

"Movie selections."

"All accounted for."

"Small lamp."

"The electrical cord almost didn't make it, but check."

"Extra blankets and pillows."

"Gotcha covered."

"Alright, I think we have everything," Blaine said from outside the fort.

Kurt crawled out from under the flap. "Except for you," he said, a devilish glint in his eye.

"Don't you _d_ - "

Kurt had grabbed Blaine by the waist and pulled him down to the floor. Blaine didn't stand a chance in hell. He fell, knees first onto the ground as Kurt pulled him into the fort. They were both laughing as Blaine struggled to get away – though, admittedly, not with enough force to actually get away – as Kurt held him in his arms and pulled him close. They rolled around on the mattress for a while before Kurt gave up and let him go.

Blaine rolled onto his back and looked to the roof of the fort, illuminated by the small lamp in the back corner of the fort. The whites, pinks, blues, and yellows of the cloth were lit up, one overlapping the other and casting a nice hue on the inside of the fort. It was almost like the glow of a fire. Kurt was looking up at the ceiling too, his hand draped casually across Blaine's chest, a leg on top of his leg.

They were always touching. Whether it was their fingertips touching hands, shoulders, or legs, their feet rubbing together under the table as they studied together, or their lips brushing against exposed skin. They were always relaxed about their body space – always touching.

Blaine covered Kurt's hand on his chest with his own, squeezing it gently as they got the last of their giggles out. Kurt snuggled closer as Blaine brought his arm around Kurt's shoulders. They fit together so well; it was without flaw.

"What movie do you want to watch first?" Blaine asked politely. He'd always insist on Kurt choosing what they watched or else the other boy was liable to either fall asleep or try and seduce him.

"I thought we could start with a classic…"

Blaine recognized that excited look in Kurt's eyes. He groaned. "Please, no. We just saw it last week and it's so long. I swear, it goes on for hours and hours and hours…"

Kurt pouted his lips animatedly. "Please, Blaine?" he pretended to beg. "I'll love you forever and ever and ever."

"Well, if I didn't expect you to before, then I certainly will after this," Blaine said, kissing Kurt softly. "_The Sound of Music_ it is."

Kurt clapped to himself. He loved winning.

* * *

><p>They spent all afternoon in the fort and well into the night. It truly was a haven in every sense of the word. For once in their lives, it really felt like it was just the two of them in the entire world – no one else existed. There were no nagging text messages, no homework needing to be done, no deadlines, no expectations, no immediate needs other than being with one another for the moment. And the moments seemed to stretch on for days. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like years. There was no proper sense of time when they were with one another like this. They were lost in one another, guarded only by the blanket walls of a well-made fort.<p>

"Okay, okay," Blaine said. "Tell me another one."

"Own my own theme park," Kurt read off. "It'll be called 'Hummel-land'. Like Disneyland only better."

"Better than Disneyland?" Blaine questioned.

"Much better. I haven't figured out _how_ yet, but it's going to be better. And not as expensive."

"You don't just up and create a theme park like Disneyland."

"If good ol' Walt could do it, so can I. I bet you one day when he was a kid he was talking with all his friends and he said, 'Hey, guys. One day I'm going to have my own theme park and it's going to be named after me.' And I bet all his friends and his family were just like 'Shut up, Walt. That's not going to happen.' Well look who's laughing now."

"Count me in with the believers then," Blaine teased.

"Duly noted. Ah, here's a good one," Kurt said as he paused in his scrolling. "'Publish a best selling novel.'"

"I didn't know you were interested in writing," Blaine mumbled.

"I figure that's the whole point of a bucket list, you know?" Kurt mused aloud. "You take your interests and you multiply them to the maximum exponent until they're this crazy dream. I feel like there are so many…I was going to say 'sides', but that implies that if you look at me from a different angle, I'm a different person…There are so many _parts_ of me. And I don't want to waste any of them. I want to be all that I can be. Even if I only ever talk about it."

His head was in Blaine's lap and the shorter boy was stroking his hair softly. It was strangely soothing, feeling Blaine's fingertips moving in and out of his hair.

"You're amazing, do you know that?" Blaine murmured.

Kurt reached up a hand and traced the outline of Blaine's cheek slowly. He could feel himself blushing, so he decided to make Blaine blush in the only way he knew how. He propped himself up and pulled and Blaine down so that they met halfway in a well-calculated kiss. It was slow, thorough, and made Kurt curl up closer as Blaine enclosed him in the circle of his arms, supporting him. Kurt used his fingertips to gently massage the back of Blaine's neck.

Their lips parted with a soft noise, both of them blushing now. Kurt bit his bottom lip as he tried not to break into a smile. Blaine was ducking his head bashfully. It seemed that no matter how long they were together they could never get used to the fact that they were actually allowed to kiss one another for absolutely no reason in the world besides the fact that they _could_. It was nice.

"So…" Kurt began. "Will your parents hate us for messing up the furniture?"

"They'll never know," Blaine said. "They don't get back until Sunday night anyways before they're off somewhere else. And I promise I won't tattle on you," he teased, tickling Kurt's side.

"Do you think maybe we could leave the fort up for the night?" Kurt asked, stifling a yawn. "I kind of don't want to take it down yet."

"Yeah, me either."

Kurt was already snuggling under a thick blanket, huddling closer to Blaine to absorb his body warmth. He smacked his lips tiredly, his eyes already closing. He loved how he could still see the faint glow of the lamp against the blankets even through his closed-lids and how he could hear Blaine shifting beside him until he was lying down.

"Have you given any thought to the next thing you want to cross off your list?" Blaine asked, prying the forgotten phone out of Kurt's loose grip.

"I was thinking maybe number forty-one…" Kurt murmured.

Blaine read the number off the list and couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You're _on,_ Hummel," he said, pressing a kiss to Kurt's forehead.

Then he turned off the lamp and the fort went dark.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I hope you all liked this first installment of this little idea I have going. You can go ahead and click that alert button if you want some periodic, good spirited fluff in your future (along with some smut, I'll admit it). I was thinking 'what else could be on Kurt Hummel's bucket list?' and I came up with a whole list of cute, do-able things our boys could do together like the two examples above. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! Next installment coming fairly soon._

_**Review and let me know what you think (:**_


	2. Contests and Donations

_#41 Have a Pizza-Eating Contest_

* * *

><p>"I feel obligated to warn you that I'm going to win," Blaine bragged as they sat on the floor of Kurt's bedroom.<p>

"Is that so?" Kurt replied coyly. They were sitting cross-legged directly across from each other, hands linked. He toyed with Blaine's fingers. "And why is that?"

"Friday nights at Dalton were known infamously as 'Pizza Night'. You can imagine the things we got up to in the dorm rooms."

"I can," Kurt replied, pulling a face. "Or maybe I can't…"

"Either way, you're dealing with the champ."

"I doubt that. Wes is a fierce competitor. He'd never go down without a fight."

"You're right, he wouldn't," Blaine laughed as he traced the back of Kurt's thumb with his own. "He was always _second_ place."

"You'll never be able to finish two boxes," Kurt challenged. "At least I hope not, because that's all I bothered to order."

"Are you sure it's enough?" Blaine teased.

"Now you're bluffing," Kurt replied confidently. "You're too small – where would you store all that food?"

"My stomach is like a black hole. I'm _always_ hungry," Blaine said in a suggestive voice.

"Save it," Kurt said, pushing against Blaine's chest when he leaned forward to kiss Kurt's neck. "Right now I'm going to put you to shame. I haven't eaten all day long in preparation." Blaine gave him a skeptical look. "_Okay_, I ate breakfast. You know I can't start my day without my caffeine and I had to eat something with my coffee…"

"I know," Blaine said smugly, patting the back of Kurt's hand. "Trust me, I know."

"The only thing I'm worried about is how I'm going to burn off all these calories."

"I can think of a few ways," Blaine replied, bringing Kurt's hand to his mouth and kissing it softly. "And a few more…"

"Your diversionary tactics aren't going to work on me," Kurt sniffed.

"Then you can come run with me tomorrow morning," the other boy suggested.

Kurt snorted. "I don't run."

"You could start. What could it hurt to try?"

"You're the runner in this relationship. I'll stick to my yoga and pilates."

"How you're that flexible I will never know."

"You'll come to terms with it," Kurt told him with a quick wink.

The doorbell rang, echoing clear and loud throughout the house. Kurt sprang up at once and walked towards the front door. Before he exited his room, he held up two fingers to his eyes and turned them in Blaine's direction in the "_I'm watching you_" kind of way.

"_It's on_," he mouthed.

"Let it be known that I warned you," Blaine repeated. He still held his confident demeanor as Kurt left the room.

Kurt came back into the room two minutes later bearing two large boxes of pizza.

"The price of pizza nowadays is atrocious," he commented as he set the boxes down on the blanket they had set out.

"I _told_ you I would pay," Blaine began.

"Wouldn't hear of it," Kurt interrupted. "You paid on the last date. We either alternate or go Dutch, that's how this relationship works."

"I love you and your sensibility."

"Complimenting me won't keep me from going any easier on you," Kurt called from the hallway as he left to get plates – they wouldn't be making a mess in his room; not on his watch.

"Oh darn, and I thought I had you fooled."

"I'll never fall for your complacent tom-foolery."

"All's fair in love and stuffing your face."

"I'm going to win," Kurt said. "Even if I've gained ten pounds by the end of the night, I'm going to win."

Blaine helped himself to the first slice of pizza, oozing cheese and dropping toppings on his plate as he did so.

"You're _sure_ you want to do this," he stated. "I'm giving you one last chance to bow out."

"Save your charm for when I win," Kurt replied, mimicking him and grabbing his own slice.

"May the best boyfriend win."

"I intend to," Kurt said with a smile. "Dig in."

* * *

><p>"You're cute when your mouth is full," Blaine purred.<p>

Kurt almost choked on the chunk of pizza in his mouth. "You know, assassinating the competition is against the rules," he coughed, a hand to his chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blaine said innocently as he grabbed his fourth slice. "I was just stating a known fact."

"You're trying to get inside my head," Kurt replied, taking another bite.

"I'm trying to imply _something_ about head," Blaine said, an evil glint in his eye.

"Shut up and eat your pizza."

"I am," Blaine said sweetly. "Feeling full yet?"

"Puh-lease," Kurt rolled his eyes. "If I'm hungry enough, I can eat a whole pizza by myself. I just usually have some kind of self-control. But now I get to eat as much as I can."

"Let me know when you're feeling sick," Blaine taunted. "Then I can know when to claim my victory."

"If you spent half as much time eating as you do talking trash you'd be ahead of me by now."

"Speed isn't important," Blaine retorted. "Slow and steady wins the race. A fast-eater gets a stomach ache."

"Eating is a mental sport," Kurt replied. "As long as you tell yourself you're not full, you can afford to eat more and trick your stomach into thinking there's no room. You're speaking to an ex-binge eater here."

"Ah, but you've been out of practice for _years_," Blaine commented. "I, on the other hand, have been practically training for this. I can eat for days on end."

"Yeah, well, put a little alcohol in your system and that changes everything, doesn't it?" Kurt razzed back.

"Must it always go back to that?"

"It was all I could think of," Kurt admitted.

"Your first bad come-back," Blaine mused. "I feel like I should take a picture and press it into a scrapbook."

"I'll take a picture of your face after you lose and tack it up on my wall," Kurt shot back. "And it'll say 'Blaine _Loser_' underneath it."

"Hardy har har," Blaine said, pausing to stick his tongue out at his boyfriend. "The game's not over yet."

* * *

><p>An hour later and the only two words bouncing around Kurt's head were "<em>food coma<em>" – over and over and over again until he found himself saying them aloud.

"What's that?" Blaine groaned from the opposite side of the room.

They were both sprawled on their backs, arms clutching their stomachs.

"I'm in a food coma. I won't be able to move for days," Kurt mumbled. His eyes were shut and he had a pillow pressed to his chest.

"Who won?" Blaine asked. "Who ate more?"

"Don't talk about food," Kurt mumbled. "I can't even think about…the 'p' word."

"The 'p' word?" Blaine laughed as he rolled onto his stomach. His voice became muffled by the carpet. "There are a lot of words in this world that start with 'p'."

"Okay, the 'f' word."

"That's even worse," Blaine muttered.

Kurt ignored him by rolling over onto his side and curling his legs up into the fetal position. "I think I won."

"No way, I finished my pizza first," Blaine protested weakly.

"No you didn't. And technically I ate your last crust so that means I ate more." Kurt's stomach gave a sickening growl as he spoke. "I'm going to regret it, but I won."

"It's not possible to schedule a rematch then?" Blaine teased.

"Not on your life." Kurt turned over to face Blaine. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this in the first place."

"It's _your_ list," Blaine pointed out.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Kurt reached over and grabbed his phone. "It was either this or go to California and stand under the Hollywood sign." He scrolled through the list. "Also, I'm apparently going to train animals someday."

"Train animals?"

"You know, I'm going to be one of those crazy people riding on the back of a whale or a lion tamer. Maybe I'll do some work with giraffes - who knows? Do you think I could get away with wearing a lot of sequins in those jobs?" Kurt was rambling in his tired state, but he didn't care.

"When I was a kid, I always had nightmares about falling into the whale tank," Blaine recalled. "It just seemed like the scariest thing at the time."

"I used to have nightmares about the kids at schools dressed as clowns chasing me down a hallway with a sword. Or getting locked in a car and having to drive home by myself. I couldn't even see over the steering wheel." He chuckled to himself. "It seemed like the scariest thing at the time," he mocked Blaine.

"Well I hope you're over your driving fears seeing as how you have your own car now."

"I don't even have to sit on a phonebook to see out of the windshield," Kurt joked.

"What else is on the list?"

"Well can you get me an agent and help me become a model?" Kurt asked. He squinted at the screen. "Or will you make me the maid of honor at your wedding? Because that's on the list. I want to be someone's maid of honor. Not their best man – their maid of honor."

"No, I don't think I can help you out there."

"I hope Rachel will make me hers at her and Finn's wedding. I could plan the whole soirée with my eyes closed."

"I'm sure she will," Blaine humored him.

"Oh here's a good one," Kurt said, inching closer and closer to Blaine. "Time travel. Let's build that time machine you were talking about and go back to the seventies."

Blaine put his arm around Kurt. "You've been watching sci-fi movies with Finn again haven't you?"

"It's not my fault. He won't watch anything else. I've told him that he should watch a good make-over show now and then but he always turns up the volume…"

"He's giving you ideas."

"Well what kind of life have I lived if I haven't travelled to an alternate universe? Aliens. There's something to add to the list. I want to talk to an alien."

"When they find some aliens, you'll be the first in line on the list to speak with them."

"I'll have you know that there is water on mars. On _mars_," Kurt droned on. He ran his fingers across the front of Blaine's shirt. "There are totally life forms out there."

"Well if they had water, then what did they feed on to sustain life?"

"Ugh, food," Kurt groaned, resting his head on Blaine's chest. "Don't talk about food. We were doing so well."

"You've inspired me to make my own bucket list, you know," Blaine murmured.

Kurt smiled at Blaine's low, sultry voice resonating through his chest. But more importantly he smiled at his words.

"Is that so?" he asked.

"Yeah," Blaine said with a secretive grin. "Maybe if you're lucky I'll let you see it."

"Blaine _Anderson_," Kurt challenged, getting up off of the floor and straddling his boyfriend. "If you don't let me read it, I'll…I don't know yet. But I will do _something_."

"If I don't let you read it will you stay on top of me?" Blaine teased. "You've made a miraculous recovery, by the way."

"Eating is a mental sport," Kurt repeated, leaning closer.

The kiss was soft and slow – Kurt might have described it as lazy. The pace of it was lazy at least; minimal pressure, little exertion, lips brushing lips. But in truth, he felt anything but lazy. He felt warm, energetic – the blood pumping a little bit faster through his veins. He paused to look down at Blaine's lips, just a few centimeters away from his, parted slightly in a smile. They exchanged a look before Kurt felt Blaine's hands resting on his neck, pulling him back in.

Kurt braced his hands on either side of Blaine's head, dipping low and catching Blaine's lips in a second, longer kiss. He giggled when he felt Blaine's hands resting on his waist, touching his sides with a flutter of his fingers in the places he knew Kurt was ticklish. Kurt smirked to himself before sinking his teeth down onto Blaine's lower lip, letting his teeth rake across it slowly, sucking it into his mouth the way he knew Blaine couldn't resist.

That was how it was between them – easy. They knew how to capture each other's attention, how to make the other either smile in contentment or shudder with ecstasy with less than a second inbetween. They were comfortable enough around each other to voice what they liked and what they didn't like; it was like a game: who could make the other come undone first. And there were always two winners. Always.

Kurt's breath hitched as Blaine wrestled him to the floor, rolling over on top of him and settling down on Kurt's stomach. He laughed as he let his hands rest on Blaine's chest, following the trail of his own fingers with his eyes. He bit his lip as he moved down Blaine's arms, over the curves of his slight muscles, then jumped to the fabric of his shirt covering his toned stomach. Kurt watched as his fingers created momentary wrinkles in Blaine's shirt.

Blaine was watching him and his movements as well, his own hand running through Kurt's soft hair just above his forehead, the other tracing his smooth cheek. Blaine shifted back and found Kurt's wrists, running his fingers lightly up his palms until their fingers interlaced. Kurt smiled, loving the impeccable fit of their hands.

Sometimes when he was alone he would just lift up his hands and think about how much more perfect they'd be with Blaine's fingers in the empty spaces. Some might say two halves of a whole, but Kurt knew better. He knew they were two complete, complementary beings. Sure, they could stand alone, but together they were infinitely stronger and better for it. They were perfect harmonies; with one another they were so much sweeter.

Blaine pushed their interlocked hands towards the floor, pinning Kurt's hands into the plush carpet. He kissed Kurt's lips gently, applying more pressure by the second. Kurt tilted his head slightly, parting his lips and taking everything that Blaine was giving. He flexed his fingers as Blaine's tongue ran lightly against his lips, tracing the insides.

It was familiar, yes, but still thrilling. He had the feeling that he could kiss Blaine for the rest of his life and never get bored. There was never monotony to the way their bodies met, each time varying slightly from the last. Sometimes there were long, drawn out sessions where they paid homage to one another's body in a slow ritual of pleasure. Other times their limbs would knock together clumsily and their pain thresholds would rise significantly, neither of them caring about anything but instant gratification.

This night seemed to be neither of those extremes on their spectrum of exploration. Their touches were unhurried – their lips soft, but pressed firmly against one another's. It was neither languid nor rushed, but a happy medium just to get a reaction from one another, even if only for a millisecond. They touched for the sake of touching, kissed just for the fact that they _could_, embraced because they were within their rights as lovers. Fingertips caressing skin, grasping clothing, running across lips bruised from kissing in the best way possible.

Their linked hands rested on Kurt's chest, Blaine's hand palm down and Kurt's shadowing it. Blaine smiled at Kurt's racing heartbeat, enjoying knowing that he was the one to cause it. They sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the sound of their breathing even out and feeling Kurt's heartbeat return to normal. Well, as normal as it could get with Blaine around.

"I should feed you pizza more often," Blaine murmured.

Kurt shoved his shoulder weakly. "I'm just on a victory high. Word on the street is I put the 'champ' to shame at his own game."

"Sounds like he lost to a very worthy opponent."

"An _amazing_ opponent," Kurt corrected him.

"Of course," Blaine said with a grin.

Kurt rested his hands on Blaine's thighs, stroking his thumbs against the dark denim of the other boy's jeans. "At least he wasn't a sore loser. Always the gentleman."

"Ah, but how could he possibly be upset about losing when he had a good time? And a good meal," he added, patting his own stomach.

"I'm betting he'll be hungry again by the end of the night. He's got a high metabolism."

"Or _maybe_," Blaine said, leaning closer, "He just has a killer way of burning up calories."

"Maybe," Kurt murmured, tipping his head upwards to meet Blaine halfway.

"Maybe," Blaine repeated softly before closing the diminutive gap between them.

* * *

><p><em>#6 Donate Blood<em>

* * *

><p>"Kurt, you're shaking," Blaine noted, covering Kurt's hand with his own.<p>

"I can't help it, I'm nervous," Kurt said. "Every blood drive before this I wasn't old enough to donate yet. But when I finally was, I didn't have anyone to take with me. I was going to ask Mercedes, but then there was that whole Troubletones drama. And even though we're on good terms now, we're still not seeing each other as much as we used to. Then I was going to ask Rachel but she dropped the bomb on me that she was running against me then I wasn't talking to her, and…I'm rambling aren't I?" he asked, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He bit his fingernails nervously. "Sorry."

Blaine laughed. "Look, don't worry. We had blood drives all the time at Dalton. I've done this a few times and it's nothing to be worried about."

Kurt gulped loudly. "Are you sure?"

"You don't have a fear of needles that I don't know about, do you?" Blaine teased.

"_No_," Kurt sassed back. "But I do have a fear of bleeding out on a table. I've heard horror stories, you know."

"Please tell me you didn't stay up half the night googling worst case scenarios," Blaine groaned, already sensing the answer.

"I might have searched for a _few_," Kurt admitted quietly. "Just to be safe. Just to know that, yes, things can go wrong."

"And that comforts you?" Blaine asked, giving his boyfriend a doubtful look.

"Well…no." Kurt gripped the arm of his chair tighter. "But I just have to know that kind of stuff. Don't judge me." He looked over to Blaine, who was still staring at him dubiously. "Okay, you can judge me."

"Too late," Blaine joked. "Look, just take a deep breath. I'm going to be with you the whole time. I'm going to be in the bed that's right next to yours. You can look over at me and make fun of my hair while they're taking your blood if it'll make you feel better."

"You know me so well," Kurt commented, patting Blaine's knee affectionately.

"Hummel," the nurse called.

Blaine could practically see the blood drain from Kurt's face, making him go entirely pale.

Kurt got up, looking back at Blaine who remained in his seat. "You're not coming with me?" he asked, only a slight hint of panic in his tone.

"They're just going to ask you questions and run some tests to make sure you qualify to donate. Don't worry, I'm going to be there when it actually happens. I promise. I said I'd be there with you."

Kurt nodded, seeming to reassure himself. "See you in a bit then," he said.

Blaine smiled, endeared by Kurt's nervousness and unnatural lack of confidence. "I'll be waiting for you."

* * *

><p>An hour and a lengthy questionnaire and physical later, Kurt found himself counting the tiles on the ceiling. They were white and painfully dull, but counting them individually gave his brain something to do. If he stopped, all he could think about is vampires, oddly enough. The cots around him were full of other people either being set up to give blood like he was or already in the process. Kurt tried not to look at those already hooked up, at their IVs transferring dark blood from their arms, the clear tubes leaving nothing to the imagination.<p>

"_What if a legion of vampires attacks the clinic?_" was all Kurt could think to himself. "_We'd all be screwed. We're like sitting ducks, our veins already opened up for the taking._" His own thought process made him cringe.

He jumped when he heard a voice next to him.

"Hey, you," Blaine said, sitting on the edge of the cot to the left of his.

"Hi," Kurt said. Even though his thoughts were running amok, the best he could manage under the circumstances were single syllables.

"What are you thinking about?" Blaine asked as he sat down on his own bed.

"Vampires," Kurt answered honestly.

He could practically hear the smile in Blaine's voice when he responded.

"And what were you thinking about that concerned vampires?"

"Nothing," Kurt replied nonchalantly. "Just the fact that we're supplying a buffet of blood for them to feast on. That's all."

"Kurt, relax," Blaine told him, laughing lightly. "No vampires are going to take your blood. Not while I'm here protecting you."

Kurt just shook his head and resumed counting his tiles. One hundred twenty-one, one hundred twenty-two, one hundred twenty-three…

"So how'd the qualifying process go?" Blaine asked, trying to make stable conversation as he took Kurt's muteness as a bad sign.

"Pretty smoothly," Kurt replied. "I, uh, only had to fudge the truth once…" He looked around to make sure no one was listening.

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"Well they asked me if I'd had sexual intercourse with a man…" Kurt admitted, blushing at his own words. "Checking for STDs I suppose. But I had to say no, because I know we're both clean anyways," he blurted out. "I looked that up online, too. If I had said yes they wouldn't have let me donated - just rejected me right then and there." He shook his head. "And I will _not_ be discriminated against. It's not fair."

"No, you're right," Blaine said. "I didn't have to lie when I first donated. I hadn't even met you yet," he recalled with a smile. "You have nothing to worry about. We're both clean like you said. I guess my dad making me get those yearly physicals turned out to be useful after all," he joked lightly.

Kurt still looked worried, so Blaine got up off of his bed and walked over to his bedside, touching his arm gently.

"Kurt, look at me," Blaine said softly. He waited until Kurt's blue irises were trained on his own light brown ones. "You're fine. Nothing's going to happen to you. They test all the blood after it's donated anyways and yours is going to come up clean. Just like mine, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt said with a small smile.

A young nurse came around the other side of Kurt's bedside. She had a clipboard and a chipper expression.

"Kurt?" she asked, checking the name on her clipboard.

"That's me," Kurt said with a polite smile. "Do you promise not to kill me? It's my first time donating and a death might not be the best outcome."

"I agree," she said with a nod. "I can assure you that won't happen. Besides, that would look terrible on my resume," she joked. She looked over some papers on her clipboard, making notes with her pen. "Which arm will you be using?" she asked.

"My right," he said. "That way I can get out of writing for the rest of the day if I'm lucky," he joked.

"Alright let's get you all set up," she said.

* * *

><p>"Which arm do you prefer?" the nurse asked Blaine.<p>

"My left," Blaine answered, extending it towards her.

A few minutes later, an IV was taped down to Blaine's skin and he had a stress ball lodged in his left hand.

"Squeeze this lightly. Not too fast, not too slow. Just very relaxed," she instructed him. She walked around the end of his bed to check on Kurt. "_You_, on the other hand, are done with the stress ball," she said, prying it out of Kurt's right hand. "Just relax, the worst part is over," she assured him.

Kurt nodded as she walked away. He was taking deep, measured breaths.

"You okay?" Blaine asked.

"I'm trying not to think about the fact that there is a needle puncturing my vein and robbing me of my blood," Kurt replied, turning away from his hooked up arm. "And you?"

"I'm thinking I want them to wrap me up in yellow tape," Blaine said. "Yellow's a nice color."

"What was I thinking putting this on the list?" Kurt groaned.

"You were thinking of the lives you could save by giving up some of the blood you're not using," Blaine stated, giving Kurt a small smile. "Three people per donation, did you know that? Right now, you're saving three people's lives."

"That's a nice thought, I guess," Kurt relented, his shoulders easing up a bit.

"Still thinking about vampires?" Blaine guessed.

"No, I'm alright," Kurt said. "Maybe a little," he added.

The cots were so tightly packed in the clinic that Kurt could reach his left hand across the way. Blaine stretched out his right hand to meet him halfway and their hands clung together. He gave Kurt's fingertips a light squeeze as he gave him a reassuring smile.

"Feeling better?" he asked, rubbing his thumb lightly against Kurt's.

"Much better," Kurt said softly.

* * *

><p>"Kurt you <em>need<em> to eat something. Preferably something with a lot of sugar," Blaine insisted as he led Kurt to his kitchen.

"I still can't believe I didn't have more of a color palette to choose from," Kurt complained, motioning towards the dressings on his right arm. "I mean, _green_? And not just any green – _lime_ green." He turned away from it as if it were painful to look at. "A nice auburn would've gone better with this ensemble."

"The clinic just doesn't have the funding to keep up with your wardrobe," Blaine teased.

Kurt sighed deeply as he took a seat at one of the stools in front of the island. "I suppose that's true."

"Don't move," Blaine ordered. "You're not going anywhere until you at least drink some juice."

"I'm not thirsty," Kurt complained, but he sat still anyways. "They tried to make me eat those donuts and cookies at the clinic, but I said no."

"I know – I was there," Blaine said as he pulled out a tall glass and set it in front of Kurt. "And that was unwise on your part. I'm surprised they even let you leave."

"I don't need to gain ten pounds just because I donated some blood. Especially not after that pizza fiasco. From this point on, my body is a temple."

"Kurt, you've just donated blood - "

"I know – _I was there_," Kurt replied with a smirk. He ran a fingertip across the lip of the glass as Blaine shot him a look.

" – You need to get some food in your system. If you don't, you could faint or feel dizzy."

"If you pour me the juice will you feel better?" Kurt asked bitterly.

"No," Blaine said as he filled the glass with apple juice. "You need food."

Kurt sipped daintily at the juice, focusing on downing the liquid so he could ignore Blaine.

"_Kurt_," Blaine said warningly.

"One cookie. _One_. And that's it."

"We'll see."

* * *

><p>"I'm so sleepy," Kurt mumbled from Blaine's couch. "And cold," he noted as a shiver passed through his body. "So, so cold."<p>

"I told you to eat something," Blaine reminded him as he fetched his boyfriend a blanket.

Kurt pulled it up to his chin and curled up on his side, non-offending arm away from the couch. "I just need to sleep it off," he said, fighting back a yawn. "Just ten minutes of sleep then we can study for that midterm like I promised we would."

"I think you'll need a little more than that," Blaine said with a half-smile. He was sitting next to Kurt on the wide couch, stroking his hair where it met the nape of his neck.

"No, no," Kurt insisted. "Wake me up in ten minutes or I'll be very, _very_ put off with you." He opened his eyes and squinted towards Blaine. "With _both_ of you," he clarified. "Since when do you have a twin?" He blinked and leaned back against the pillows. "Oh, how the mind races…"

Blaine chuckled as Kurt's hand started to go limp in his. "Just sleep. I can study on my own, it's not a problem."

"Why aren't _you_ tired?" Kurt accused, his voice slurring with fatigue. "You gave as much blood as I did."

"I ate and sat down when they told me to unlike _somebody_ I could mention. Here's a hint: his name rhymes with 'hurt'."

"Ha ha, very funny," Kurt said lifelessly. He shifted under the blanket, pulling it closer around himself. "I'm serious, Blaine. Ten minutes."

"I'll see you in ten minutes then," Blaine lied. He made to get up, but Kurt's grip on his hand tightened.

"No, stay with me," Kurt mumbled.

"You need to rest and I need to study," Blaine said softly.

"Stay," Kurt repeated after a longer pause.

Blaine bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's lips, smiling when he felt the slightest pressure of a return kiss and Kurt's right hand brushing against his cheek. As soon as he'd pulled away, Kurt's hand had fallen back against his torso and his eyes had slid shut. His breathing was becoming more and more spaced apart and it was clear that he was drifting off into a deep sleep.

Blaine stood up and put Kurt's arm back beneath the blanket, pulling it back up into place so that Kurt's skin wasn't exposed. He took one last look back at Kurt, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips before he left the room.

He wondered what he'd ever done in life to deserve someone as wonderful as Kurt.

* * *

><p><em>AN: __Thanks to **Mardie168** for the idea of Blaine having his bucket list, which will come into play a little bit later. What a great idea! While we're on the subject, if anyone has any cute, simple ideas for our boys to do, feel free to let me know and I'll credit you if your idea inspires me :D_

_A billion thanks to every single person reading this and putting their faith in me to write for you. The support is phenomenal - truly. Trust me when I say I don't take a single one of you for greated. Much thanks to y'all (:_

**_Review and make my day (:_**


	3. Tents and Slow Dances

_#67 Go Camping_

* * *

><p>"I, for one, find it hard to believe that in your <em>entire<em> life you've never gone camping," Blaine said as he gathered up their supplies.

"Do I look like the camping type?" Kurt asked, pausing in his endeavor of rolling up a particularly stubborn sleeping bag.

Blaine laughed. "Maybe not. You are kind of an _indoor_ boy," he said, suggestion thick in his tone. He stooped down to press a quick kiss to Kurt's lips. "But with Burt as your dad…"

Kurt looked up from where he was kneeling and gave Blaine a scrunched up smile. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." Blaine assured him. "Just that he looks like the outdoors-y type. Lots of camping and hunting. Male bonding and all that."

"Doest mine ears deceive me?" Kurt said in his best English accent, putting a hand to his ear. "Or is that Blaine Anderson_ judging_ somebody?"

"Well is it at least an accurate judgment?" Blaine asked with raised eyebrows.

Kurt pointedly looked away. "It might be."

Blaine mimed adding a point to his side of the board, "Anderson: 13, Hummel: 0…"

"No, no, no," Kurt protested. "The last time you did that, you said I had five points. I want my points."

Blaine rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. "Fine," he sighed. "You can have five points, but I'm still winning."

Kurt scoffed. "Are you kidding? I just got five free points." He stood up and placed the sleeping bag on Blaine's mattress.

"And what does the winner get?" Blaine asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Kurt could feel himself blushing. "We'll find that out once we determine a winner, won't we?"

"Can there be two winners?" Blaine purred, coming up behind Kurt and wrapping his arms around him.

"Go continue packing," Kurt ordered in his most authoritative voice. It might've cracked slightly.

"So," Blaine continued conversationally. "If Burt always goes camping – I assume he still does – then why haven't you ever gone with him?"

"They don't have indoor plumbing out in the wilderness, you know," Kurt answered as if it were the most obvious thing.

"I'm vaguely aware," Blaine agreed.

"I can't go to bed without my moisturizing routine," Kurt shrugged. "This face needs to be taken care of in order to look this way."

Blaine nodded. "Of course it does," he said in his most soothing voice.

"So you're not telling me where we're going?" Kurt asked for conceivably the tenth time – in the last ten minutes. "Because if I knew where we were going, I'd know what kind of weather to pack for."

"Clothes are inconsequential," Blaine informed him.

Kurt gasped, a hand flying to his chest in shock. "Blaine _Anderson_," he whispered.

"Trust me on this and just take some pajamas or something."

"You underestimate the wide definition of 'pajamas'," Kurt informed him. "I have many different kinds. There's the simple sweater paired with…"

Blaine walked across the room and silenced Kurt in the only way he knew how: the immediately gratifying way of a kiss.

He had tugged Kurt forward by the lapels of his jacket and held them tightly. Kurt's hands, which had been gesticulating widely before, had flown out in shock, but Blaine felt them eventually settle on his upper arms. He heard Kurt sigh, his muscles loosening up second by second until he was actually participating, winding his arms around Blaine's neck as he'd done countless times before.

Blaine took a step forward and moved his hands to Kurt's waist, letting them move under his layers – which he'd been wearing less of ever since Blaine had mentioned them – until he was grazing the warm skin of Kurt's lower back. Kurt hummed his approval against Blaine's lips, moving his hands to press against Blaine's chest just before they broke apart.

Kurt was kneading his lower lip with his teeth and suppressing a smile. Blaine ran a thumb across Kurt's cheek, enjoying how the mere touch brought color to his skin.

"Pack whatever you want," Blaine said softly. "We're not going that far, so there's your one and only hint." He gave Kurt one last, quick kiss before stepping away.

Kurt swayed a little bit on the spot before regaining himself. "So what you're saying is that all night long it's just going to be you and I, in a tent, in the wilderness? No chance of being walked in on?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"Just the two of us?" Kurt repeated. "_Alone_."

"Unless you invited someone else, then yes," Blaine answered with a grin.

"Why haven't I gone camping before again?"

* * *

><p>Kurt was blindfolded and it wasn't as exciting as it sounds.<p>

"Is this really necessary?" he'd asked Blaine when they'd gotten in the car. "It doesn't _have_ to be a surprise, you know."

"I just want to see the look on your face when you see the place," Blaine explained with a secretive smile.

Kurt sighed. "Worst. Boyfriend. Ever."

"You love me," Blaine stated confidently as he brought out the blindfold.

Kurt scoffed. "And you're lucky I do or else I'd never let you put a blindfold on my face and ruin my hair." He crossed his arms as Blaine secured the piece of fabric in place. "But, I_ suppose_ since we're going into the backwoods anyways, my hair won't be lasting long."

"You'd be surprised," Blaine said from the driver's seat.

"Well I'm sure yours will remain intact since you've secured it with an entire tub of hair gel," Kurt teased. "Maybe I should take Santana up on that gel-ervention…"

"I just took a shower," Blaine informed him. "Feel for yourself."

Kurt felt Blaine's hand around his wrist as he guided it to the top of his head. Kurt smiled as he did, indeed, feel under his fingertips nothing but soft, slightly damp short curls. There was a hint of product, but nothing as strong as Blaine's usual amount of gel.

"I take my insult back," Kurt said stiffly. "But the basic point still stands."

"Point taken. Now keep that blindfold in place _or else_," Blaine said, not sounding threatening in the slightest.

Kurt tried to remain aware of his surroundings, he really did. But he knew these streets like the back of his hands and if he could just mentally keep track of the direction they were headed, he might be able to work it out before they actually got there. That'd serve Blaine right for trying to surprise him in the first place.

He remained silent as he tried counting the turns. A left, a right, a long stretch before another right, then a left…

"You're awfully quiet over there," Blaine observed. "Are you cheating?"

Kurt missed a turn in his attempt to answer. Was that a right or a left? "No, I'm just in deep thought. I'm getting in the camping frame of mind is all…"

Damn, he missed another turn and was that long curve a freeway entrance or a wide u-turn? He couldn't tell anymore and all mental images of his whereabouts were gone.

"You did that on purpose," Kurt accused.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

><p>A half hour later, the car had come to a stop.<p>

"Where are we?" Kurt asked. "Can I take this dumb blindfold off now?"

"Not yet," Blaine said. "We've got a bit of a hike ahead of us."

"A _hike_?" Kurt exclaimed. "And you think it's safe to have me blind for the duration of this hike?"

"'Hike' is a strong word," Blaine backtracked. "It's more like a stroll."

"Great," Kurt replied sarcastically.

"Just take my hand. I'll take care of you," Blaine said.

Kurt felt Blaine's fingertips interlacing with his own, catching his hand in a sure, secure grip. He was helped out of the car and onto the ground. He felt the smooth expanse of pavement – perhaps of a parking lot on a camp ground? – underneath his feet. Blaine led him forward a few paces and he was on grass – sloping grass. He gripped Blaine's hand tighter as he was led forward.

After what seemed like an eternity – but was probably only ten or fifteen minutes in reality – Blaine let go of Kurt's hand, only for a second.

"Where'd you go?" Kurt asked, groping blindly next to him.

Blaine's voice came from ahead. "I'm just looking over something," he called back.

"Blaine Anderson get back here right now," Kurt insisted. Blaine was back by his side in a flash.

A few more paces forward and they stopped.

"Are we there?" Kurt asked. "Can I take my blindfold off? This had better be worth it."

"Oh it'll be worth it to see the look on your face."

Kurt began to get excited. His heart was racing as his hands hurried to untie the knot at the back of his head. Then the material was sliding off and he had to blink against the blinding light of the late afternoon sun. And he was looking at…

"Your backyard?" Kurt asked. "Your _backyard_?"

Blaine was trying to fight a laughing fit and failing miserably. He tried to cover his mouth with his hand, but the expression of shock on Kurt's face was just too much for him. He fell into a silent round of laughter, shaking at Kurt's side.

"What, so you drove me in circles around your neighborhood?" Kurt asked. He wasn't mad, he was more amused by the lengths Blaine had gone to.

"Yep," Blaine confirmed. "Then I walked you around the front yard for a little while…"

"Then when you left me, you went to open the side gate," Kurt realized. The pieces were coming together."

"It was ingenious," Blaine bragged. "I really had you going."

"All to lead me to your backyard," Kurt concluded. Then it was his turn to have trouble breathing as he doubled over from laughter.

He punched Blaine in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Blaine exclaimed. "You said yourself you can't be that far away from running water, so I was doing you a favor. And now you've had the experience of hiking to the camp spot, so you got the whole nine yards."

"You. Jerk," Kurt stated with no real anger as he punched Blaine for every word. "I thought I was going to _die_ when you left me."

"Yeah, there was a real chance the neighbor's dog was going to come out and attack you," Blaine replied, dodging Kurt's next smack. "I can see the headlines now: _Porcelain Boy Mauled to Death by a Prize-Winning Chihuahua_."

"I hate you," Kurt replied, shaking his head. "I mean, I really hate you."

Blaine hooked an arm around Kurt's waist and pulled him close. "No, you don't," he stated before pulling Kurt in for a kiss.

Kurt parted his lips and let himself relax into the kiss. He was gripping the front of Blaine's shirt, the fabric balling up in his fists as if he were still angry, but all the tension was gone from the second Blaine's mouth met his.

It was a long moment before they broke apart, Kurt looking considerably less bothered than before. A small smile played at the edges of his freshly-kissed lips.

"No, I don't," he agreed.

* * *

><p>"If there was an award for tent-pitching, you would win hands down," Kurt gushed from his chair on the patio.<p>

"The emotional support you provide is phenomenal," Blaine razzed back. "Years of practice from my dad," he answered seriously, his light demeanor dragging down a few notches.

"More Dad-trying-to-make-you-straight scenarios?" Kurt guessed.

"Unfortunately," Blaine answered. "But, I owe him my thanks now for knowing how to a pitch a tent this perfectly."

Kurt smiled sympathetically before changing the subject. "This backyard is huge," he commented. "Seriously, I could fit two of my houses in this space. Maybe more."

He gestured to the good thirty or forty feet between where he sat on a Chaise lounge on the edge of the patio to where Blaine was, beneath the sheltering leaves of a Willow tree. Honestly, a Willow tree; just casually planted in his backyard as if it were nothing. All Kurt could think about was that if he lived in this house as a kid, he would've had a field day with that tree.

"It's all for show," Blaine informed him. "My mom likes to throw these huge parties and invite everyone she's ever met in her entire life; hair stylists, co-workers, friends-of-a-friend-of-a-friend. She literally makes me memorize their names on flashcards so I don't forget anyone. With that crowd you have to have the best – and the best means the biggest." He motioned the huge expanse of yard around him.

No wonder Kurt had thought he was actually in the wilderness before.

"You're lucky," Kurt said. "This must've been a lot of fun when you were a kid."

"It was," Blaine said, smiling at a memory he must've been thinking back on. "It was great." He paused. "It would've been better to have someone to share it with."

"That's what I'm here for," Kurt told him.

Blaine nodded. "And I've never liked this backyard more than I do now."

* * *

><p>"Now <em>this<em> is my kind of campfire," Kurt said. He placed a marshmallow on the end of his long skewer before holding it over the flames.

"Well you wouldn't let me build a real one," Blaine said, referring to the metal fire pit in front of them.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I don't want to fuel your aspiring arsonistic tendencies."

"I'll have you know that I haven't burned anything down yet," Blaine told him.

Kurt shook his head. "You told me that story about how when you were five you were playing with matches - "

"Every small child plays with matches!" Blaine cut in. "And don't even try to say you didn't and pass yourself off as some perfect child."

"I _was_ perfect," Kurt insisted. "Still am," he added with a wink.

"Everyone plays with matches," Blaine mumbled.

"Yeah, but not everybody lights them over dry patches of grass," Kurt retorted.

Blaine sighed. "I wasn't thinking about where I was lighting them."

"Just be thankful your mom was there with a pitcher of fresh lemonade to put it out with."

"She never let me forget it all of my five-year-old life," Blaine muttered. "But that's in the past. I can make a decent campfire now."

"Best not risk it," Kurt said as he blew on his slightly brown marshmallow. "Right now you should be worried about making a better s'more than me. I dare you."

Blaine shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know, Kurt. Depends on how you like your marshmallows."

"That's easy," Kurt said.

"Burnt to a crisp," Blaine said at the same time as Kurt said, "Just brown around the edges." They exchanged glances.

"Are you crazy?" they asked each other simultaneously. "No, I'm not. You are."

"Stop it," Kurt ordered. "You are mentally unhinged. Who wants to willingly eat charred food? I can't even stand it when I'm making toast and the crumbs at the bottom of the toaster start burning." He cringed. "It's disgusting."

"You just have to know how to do it right. Then when you bite into the marshmallow it's kind of crunchy but then it's soft and mushy on the inside," he explained.

"Marshmallows shouldn't be crunchy," Kurt insisted. "If they were, then I would just eat those little ones out of the hot chocolate packets."

"You're doing it wrong," Blaine sing-songed.

Kurt stuck out his tongue at Blaine as he snatched the Hershey's bar that was sitting between them and ripped open the package. He broke off one of the chocolate squares and popped it in his mouth.

"You're not supposed to _eat_ the chocolate," Blaine accused.

Kurt raised his eyebrows. "Did you have other plans for the chocolate?" What he was implying couldn't be missed and he watched in amusement as Blaine blushed.

He coughed nervously. "No, I mean you're not supposed to eat it _by itself_," Blaine corrected himself. "You're supposed to save it for the s'mores."

"I can do both," Kurt said, biting into another tiny square.

Blaine shook his head. "It's clear this is your first time camping, so I'll let it slide."

"Huh," Kurt propped his chin on his hand as if in deep thought. "I wonder where you got that impression from."

"Lucky guess," Blaine answered as he assembled his own s'more. "You have to try this," he insisted, holding it out for Kurt. It was a warm, gooey mess.

"Frankly, your marshmallow frightens me in its charred state," Kurt said.

Blaine reached further, touching Kurt's lips with the edge of his graham cracker. "Come on, you know you want it," he goaded. He was leaving trails of marshmallow on Kurt's face just from waving the s'more around.

Kurt kept his lips pressed together, determined not to open up in case Blaine was going to move his hand closer. Blaine began deliberately spreading the overflowing glob of marshmallow on Kurt's check.

"I won't to eat it," Kurt said. "You can't make mfff- "

Blaine had taken advantage of the brief moment Kurt opened his mouth to smash the s'more into his face. Bits of graham cracker and chocolatey marshmallow goo fell onto the grass and Kurt reflexively hopped out of his chair and tried not to choke as he half-laughed, half-gasped at what Blaine had done. Blaine grinned triumphantly as Kurt swallowed down the concoction. The face he made as he did so was what Blaine would consider priceless.

Kurt's expression went from bewildered to angry to thoughtful in a span of about five seconds. Blaine licked his fingers, looking pleased with himself.

"It's good, isn't it?" he asked smugly.

Kurt shook his head. "I refuse to comment."

"Come here," Blaine said, standing up. "Let me clean you up."

"No," Kurt said, taking a step back. "No, no, _no_." He sprinted clear across the yard, Blaine right on his heels.

He turned around to warn Blaine not to come any closer when he felt himself toppling over onto the grass, crunching leaves as he did so. They landed with a simultaneous groan of, "_Oof_!"

Kurt tried to bat Blaine away but the latter's lips were already on his cheek, cleaning the sticky s'more trails the best way he knew how. Kurt was going to protest, but it felt kind of...nice. His hands were pressed against Blaine's chest, but he made no move to push him away as their lips drew nearer.

There was a mischievous glint in Blaine's eyes as he bent down to kiss Kurt. His hands framed Kurt's face nicely as they kissed in the brisk fall air. Kurt's fingers moved to tug on Blaine's collar, pulling him closer. The leaves beneath them crunched as they moved, but they didn't seem to hear them at all.

Kurt pushed Blaine away just enough so that he could speak, a slight pant to his voice already. "You know, if you wanted an excuse to kiss me, you could've just kissed me," he told Blaine.

"I thought that's what I was doing," Blaine said softly.

"Touché," Kurt murmured before closing the gap once more.

Something told him they wouldn't be getting up for a while.

* * *

><p>Kurt sat across from Blaine in the tent delicately picking leaves out of his hair.<p>

"You did this to me," he accused half-heartedly.

Blaine chuckled, taking in the sight of how disheveled Kurt looked. There was a blush to his cheeks where the breeze had chapped them and his clothes were wrinkled where Blaine might've been grabbing them. His lips were noticeably swollen, giving him that freshly-kissed look and there could've been a mark on his neck where Blaine had taken _extra _care to clean up the stickiness the marshmallows had left behind. Blaine had to admit, he didn't mind seeing Kurt in this state.

"And I'd do it again," he admitted.

Kurt scowled as he continued picking torn, brown leaves out of his hair. "Damn you," he muttered as the pile at his heels grew bit by bit.

Blaine held out his hand for Kurt. "There's one more thing I want to do," he said.

Kurt started at his outstretched palm suspiciously. "If you're going to kiss me, I prefer you do it in here this time," he said with a smirk.

"And I plan to," Blaine answered bluntly. He enjoyed the way Kurt blushed. "But there's something else you forgot about on your list.

Kurt gasped. "Have you been reading my list while I'm in the bathroom again?" he accused.

Blaine chuckled. "I can neither confirm nor deny. Just give me your hand."

Kurt still looked wary, but he took Blaine's hand and allowed himself to be hoisted up and then lead outside of the tent, ducking under the flap. He watched as Blaine jogged over to the porch and pulled out a stereo from beneath the wooden island next to the grill.

"You're not going to make me sing, are you?" Kurt asked, noting that it was the same stereo Blaine had come up to him with last year around this time of year.

Blaine shook his head. "I'm going to ask you to dance."

A bulb seemed to go off in Kurt's mind. "Number twelve," he recited, not even bothering to reference his phone. "I'm impressed."

"Slow-dance beneath the stars," Blaine answered with a grin. "I thought since we were on this big camping expedition anyways, tonight would be a good night."

"Two items in one go," Kurt said, admiration clear in his voice. "You're notorious."

Blaine hit a button before walking over to Kurt. "May I have this dance?" he asked Kurt for the second time in their lives. And definitely not the last.

Kurt looked embarrassed but he took Blaine's hand. Their fingers interlaced as Kurt's other arm wound around Blaine's neck. They began to sway on the spot.

_I want a little something more__  
><em>_Don't want the middle or the one before__  
><em>_I don't desire a complicated past__  
><em>_I want a love that will last_

_Say that you love me__  
><em>_Say I'm the one__  
><em>_Don't kiss and hug me and then try to run__  
><em>_I don't do drama__  
><em>_My tears don't fall fast__  
><em>_I want a love that will last_

"You're beginning to rub off on me," Blaine murmured into Kurt's hair. "At the end of the day, I'm finding that I'm just a silly romantic."

Kurt chuckled. "Now where did you get that idea?" he asked sarcastically.

_I don't want a just a memory__  
><em>_Give me forever__  
><em>_Don't even think about saying good-bye__  
><em>_'Cause I just want one love to be enough__  
><em>_And remain in my heart till I die_

_So call me romantic__  
><em>_Huh, I guess that's so__  
><em>_There's something more that you ought to know__  
><em>_Oh, I'll never leave you__  
><em>_So don't even ask__  
><em>_I want a love that will last_

Kurt snuggled closer in Blaine's arms, loving his tight embrace. He loved the way Blaine's hand was resting on his lower back and how his head fit so perfectly when nestled in the crook of his neck. He loved that he couldn't even feel the cool air on his cheeks as they turned on the spot and the way the sky was purple on blue, illuminating the outline of the scenery that changed as they rotated in their small circle.

He sighed contentedly.

_I want a love that will last__  
><em>_Always__  
><em>_I just want a love that will last__  
><em>_I want a love that will last_

Blaine stepped back just enough to find Kurt's lips in the semi-darkness. Kurt exhaled loudly as their lips parted before quickly rejoining. He smiled through the kiss as he heard the song begin repeat itself. He absentmindedly wondered how many times it would play before they realized they shouldn't be standing in the cold. As Blaine cupped his cheek he realized he wouldn't be able to anything coherent, such as count, for a while.

* * *

><p><em>AN: From what I gather, something went down in the tent. __There, I said what you were all thinking oh ho ho ho._

_Just a short, sweet, sappy chapter for y'all. I really and truly enjoy writing for this story because I know it can be fun and romantic! So I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it (:_

_On the upside, when I come back to this story, I was thinking about inserting some holiday bucket list items if I can think of any! Fun, right? Anywho, see you on the other side of finals!_

**_Review and give me a reason to smile :D_**


	4. Mistletoe Kisses and Teddy Bears

_#67 Get Kissed Under the Mistletoe_

* * *

><p>"Well now that I've told you, it's ruined," Kurt complained.<p>

There were snuggled together on the couch after a long evening of baking holiday cookies. The sugary scent still hung in the air and Kurt was sure there were sprinkles somewhere in Blaine's hair that wouldn't come out for days.

Well, he couldn't help it if he got a little _overenthusiastic_ when they maybe sort of bumped into each other completely-not-on-purpose in the small kitchen space.

But they'd made it through, despite all the _distractions_ and Blaine's blatant lack of cooking skills. Luckily all the cookies turned out unscathed and Blaine turned out to be the perfect froster, so things evened out after that.

Now there was mindless television blaring in front of them. It was an old Christmas movie that Kurt had forgotten the name of. But everything in black and white and people kept bursting into song – so basically it was perfect.

He didn't really care because he was exhausted and leaning on Blaine's shoulders, admiring their feet that were propped up on the same ottoman. One of his legs was draped over Blaine's and Blaine kept doing this thing where he rubbed his toes against Kurt's legs – it was nice.

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's, his arm wrapped around his boyfriend's shoulder and rubbing his arm soothingly.

"That's not true," he countered. "I can still make it happen."

"_Make_ it happen," Kurt scoffed. "I don't want you to _make_ it happen. I want it to be…spontaneous and fun." He bit back a grin.

Blaine dropped his face into his free hand, covering up a laugh. "Do you have to bring that up every chance you get?" he teased.

Kurt nodded smugly, sinking lower in the couch so he could rest his head on Blaine's chest. "Yes, I do. You brought it upon yourself."

Blaine just shook his head as if Kurt was the single most ridiculous person he knew.

Kurt put his hand on Blaine's chest, running it along the fuzzy fabric of an endearingly awful Christmas sweater.

"I just want to be…surprised," he murmured. "I want to be wooed, led into it and not be expecting it." He shrugged. "I want it to be romantic, like in all those Christmas movies."

"I always thought mistletoe would be awkward," Blaine mused. His voice reverberated through his chest, sending pleasant tingles straight to Kurt's cheek and fingertips. "It's like…What if you don't want to kiss the person who's standing there with you? What then? Do you just 'keep the tradition' and go in for one anyways? Couldn't that be sexual harassment?"

"Mmm, you're over thinking it, babe," Kurt muttered. "Wait," he straightened up a bit, "Are you saying you _don't_ want to kiss me?"

Blaine leaned down and pressed one soft kiss to Kurt's surprised lips. "What do you think?" he asked.

Kurt bit his lip before sitting up a bit more to give Blaine another kiss. His lips tasted like sugar and frosting from the cookies; sweet and familiar. They broke apart and Kurt stuck out his tongue at Blaine childishly before settling back down next to him.

They watched the movie for a few minutes. Well, they _tried_ to what with the way their bodies were touching and where their hands were resting. Kurt nuzzled his nose against Blaine's sweater.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked in an amused tone.

Kurt kept rubbing his nose into Blaine's chest. "I'm warming my nose. It's the one part of my body that can never get warm."

"Here, I have a better idea for that," Blaine said, putting his hand under Kurt's chin and gently tipping it upwards.

Kurt smiled as Blaine's nose touched his, rubbing it in soft, tiny Eskimo kisses.

"_Much_ more efficient," Kurt admitted before tugging Blaine down by his sweater.

Blaine's hand covered his as they kissed.

"But the movie…" Kurt murmured against Blaine's lips. "I actually wanted to watch this one."

"It's a DVD," Blaine said with a sly grin. "It can be rewatched."

"Well, when you put it _that_ way," Kurt conceded with a grin of his own.

It was safe to say they missed the rest of the movie.

* * *

><p>It took Kurt weeks to forget about the mistletoe thing. Honestly, weeks. Only the stress of finals was enough to make him stop looking around every corner and inspecting every door frame. It was starting to draw attention in public.<p>

"Kurt, I'm not going to trick you into standing under the mistletoe," Blaine insisted for the hundredth time. "You're acting like you're a little baby bear and I'm a big scary hunter luring you into a trap."

"I am not," Kurt insisted as he peeked down the hallway, doing a full scan of the area before proceeding to his bedroom. "I just know you're going to catch me off guard and…"

"That's the _point_ of mistletoe," Blaine told him. "You said so yourself."

"I don't trust you."

"_Kurt,_" Blaine sighed tiredly.

"Fine, fine. I'll give up the hunt if you promise not to surprise me _too_ much."

"I'm not promising you anything," Blaine told him, a grin of mischief plain on his face.

Kurt just shook his head and told himself to forget the whole thing.

* * *

><p>"You've shown great improvement in your cooking," Kurt complimented as he scraped up the last of the meat on his place.<p>

Blaine gave him an incredulous look. "Kurt, that was take out."

"Like I said, a definite improvement," he teased.

"At least I don't have to wash all the pans and pots it would've taken to make this," Blaine said gratefully.

"Always a plus," Kurt said.

"So when's your curfew?" Blaine asked, coming around the side of the table to sit next to Kurt.

Kurt looked at his watch. "Too soon," he groaned. "You know, after you compensate for commute time."

"Mmm, and I don't need you speeding home and impaling yourself onto a light post," Blaine agreed.

"Overprotective as always," Kurt quipped. "I can _drive_, you know. I got my license well before you did, Blaine. Have some respect for your elders."

"Respect?" Blaine repeated coyly. "How's this for respect?" he whispered into Kurt's ear before kissing his neck.

Softly, slowly, sensually. Kurt unconsciously tilted his head to the side as Blaine moved further and further down, his mouth growing increasingly hot against his throat. He let his hand move up Blaine's neck until his fingertips were spread under Blaine's hair, stroking his scalp in encouragement.

Blaine chuckled to himself before moving up to capture Kurt's lips in a long, deep kiss; the kind that made his insides turn to mush as Blaine held him close. The kind where their breaths came in long exhales as their mouths worked their magic against one another. The kind of kiss that needed no preamble as the minutes stretched out, seeming to last longer and longer as they lost themselves in each other.

Kurt pulled back slightly, running his fingers along Blaine's lips, just feeling them. They were warm and wet from where Kurt's had been seconds ago and they were a little bit red where Kurt might've accidently used some teeth. He couldn't help it, he became instinctual when Blaine's mouth was around.

He had to admit, seeing Blaine's freshly kissed mouth only made it seem that much more kissable. And who was he to resist?

* * *

><p>"It's too early," Blaine whined against Kurt's lips. "You don't have to go yet."<p>

"I do," Kurt pouted, pushing an aroused Blaine away from him so he could think clearly. "Look, it just started snowing outside." He pointed to Blaine's window where there were, indeed, fluffy snowflakes drifting down onto the ground.

Blaine repositioned himself on the bed so that his arm was draped over Kurt, keeping him there. "So?" he asked.

"_So_," Kurt said with emphasis, "I have to get going before it gets any heavier out there."

"It's too soon," Blaine murmured adamantly. "Just five more minutes," he pleaded, running his thumb across Kurt's exposed collar bone.

Kurt shuddered but managed to shake his head. "I know what you can get up to in five minutes, mister."

"Two more minutes," he bargained.

Kurt couldn't resist the feeling of Blaine's fingertips underneath his shirt, rubbing circles into his stomach.

"_One_ more," he relented, bringing Blaine's face closer to his.

* * *

><p>"So will I get to see you tomorrow?" Blaine asked, leaning against the door as Kurt buttoned up his jacket.<p>

"If you'd like," Kurt replied with a smile. "What did you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise," Blaine told him. "But I can tell you this: it'll be the second bucket list item we check off this week."

"What?" Kurt asked, feeling confused. "We haven't crossed anything off yet."

"Haven't we?" Blaine asked smugly, looking upwards.

Kurt looked up and he laughed. He couldn't help it, he was really caught off guard. Here he was, standing in the snow on Blaine's porch, all bundled up in his coat and scarf and there was a little sprig of mistletoe hanging above them.

"Now how did_ that_ get there?" he asked Blaine, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"It's a long story involving myself, bruises, and a step ladder," he said, winding an arm around Kurt's waist. "Still want to hear it?"

"You can tell me tomorrow," Kurt said, resting a hand on Blaine's arm. "We have some impending business to take care of." He nodded his head towards the mistletoe.

Blaine cupped his cheek and kissed him softly. Kurt was mindful that it was snowing around them, but he couldn't be bothered by it because he felt so warm tucked in Blaine's arms. He put his hands under Blaine's jacket – that he'd thrown on just to see Kurt to the car – warming them using his body heat as their lips continued moving.

Kurt felt Blaine's hands in his hair, clutching him close as his own palms were splayed against Blaine's chest. Mmmm, it was everything a kiss under the mistletoe should be. It was warm and eager; unforced – completely wanted by both parties. It lasted a while, but it still seemed to be over too soon

Kurt sighed as he pulled back, a smile gracing his lips.

"Just like in the movies," he said.

"Ah, I tried," Blaine said modestly.

Kurt didn't want to leave just yet. "One more kiss?" he asked softly. "The mistletoe is asking for it."

"Who am I to defy tradition?" Blaine murmured before kissing Kurt again.

Blaine tugged lightly on Kurt's scarf to bring him closer before wrapping both arms around him, resting his hands on Kurt's back. Kurt shifted his weight forward whenever Blaine looked like he was about to pull back so that the kiss lasted longer than was called for. He had his hands in the pockets of Blaine's coat, making sure he stayed there.

He got the feeling that he'd never be satisfied where Blaine's lips where concerned – he always wanted more. Saying goodbye always made him feel inexplicably sad, no matter how short or long their time apart would be.

"I know that kiss," Blaine said. "You're trying to delay going home."

"I'm just…honoring tradition," Kurt explained, weakly pointing upwards. "That's all."

"I miss you already," Blaine said. "Look, we'll see each other tomorrow."

"I know," Kurt said. "I just hate goodbyes."

"I know." Blaine rubbed his arms soothingly. Their breaths were coming out in icy puffs visible to the eye and Kurt's face was getting red from the cold, but neither of them made any move to leave.

"One more kiss for luck," Kurt said with a shy smile. "Then I'll go home, I swear."

They met halfway with an impossibly soft kiss. It was slow and thorough with a ring of finality that neither could mistake. Maybe that's why they lingered a little longer than usual. Maybe that's why neither of them grabbed the other or tried to keep them close, because they were just enjoying the last kiss of the night and all it could be.

"Goodnight," Kurt said.

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hands in his own. "Goodnight."

* * *

><p><em>#56 Make a holiday Build-A-Bear<em>

* * *

><p>"I love Christmas time!" Kurt exclaimed as they walked hand-in-hand through the mall.<p>

The entire place was decked out for the holidays. Garland hung from the railings on the second level and huge wreaths hung from the ceiling throughout the entire place. There were huge Christmas trees around every corner and there were holiday shoppers bustling about, arms full of bags from every major store around.

"Everything's so much _prettier_ than usual," he said happily. "And so much glitter, too."

They turned into the brightly colored store they were looking for.

"I've never so much as stepped one foot in a Build-a-Bear," Kurt told Blaine as they looked over the stuffed animals.

"It's almost as magical as Disneyland," Blaine told him. "So do you still sleep with stuffed animals or do you have a fur fetish I don't know about…?"

Kurt smacked Blaine's arm. "I'll have you know that I have plans for this stuffed animal."

"Any hints?" Blaine asked.

Kurt shook his head. "You'll see. All in good time. Right now I just need you to help me _make_ it."

"Let's get started," Blaine said, elated by Kurt's excitement.

* * *

><p>They spent a good half hour just trying to decide what kind of animal to make it. The choices were endless: a teddy bear, a penguin, a reindeer, a puppy, a kitty, a tiger. The list went on and on.<p>

"I love penguins," Kurt said, fingering the fluffy skin of one. "But I kind of want to make it an actual bear, you know?"

"I'd make it a puppy," Blaine commented. "But that's just me."

Kurt's eyes landed on something white and soft. He let out a small squeal. "Can we make it a polar bear, Blaine?" he pleaded. "Can we, can we?" It was like he was five years old again, but he didn't care.

Blaine laughed. "Whatever you want," he said.

"Polar bear," Kurt said decisively.

He went down the line. The next station was to choose a sound to insert.

"Do I want a sound?" he wondered. "What if I accidently squeeze him in the middle of the night and he just starts talking to me?"

"I don't think that's how it works," Blaine told him.

"You do it," Kurt told him. "You record the sound."

"Me?" Blaine asked, sounding surprised. "You want _my_ voice in the bear?"

"It'd be perfect."

"Well…I-I…I don't know what to say," Blaine spluttered. "What can I possibly say that you'd want to hear over and over again?"

"Tell me that you love me," Kurt said with a small smile as he held the plastic box up to Blaine's mouth.

"I love you," Blaine said simply.

Kurt beamed as if Christmas came early and pulled Blaine in for a quick kiss.

"I love you, too," he replied.

They moved on to the next station: stuffing.

"It's a complex mathematical process," Kurt said dramatically. "Super fluffy or sort of squishy? That is the question."

"I say go for super _duper_ fluffy," Blaine told him.

"I just want him to be extremely huggable," Kurt told the employee sitting by the machine as he handed over the things he'd collected so far.

"You have to pick out a heart for him," Blaine told Kurt.

He began digging through the pile of soft, plush hearts. There were many of all different colors: pink, red, purple, white, blue, and so on and so forth. After a few minutes of digging, Kurt pulled out a small plaid one. It was a special holiday heart, the lines of which were green, red, and white.

"Found the one," Kurt said, handing it over.

Blaine halted Kurt's arm. "Wait, you have to make a wish first."

"Oh, that's easy," Kurt said. He held the tiny heart tightly, shut his eyes, and stayed silent for a moment. "All done," he said, placing it into the employee's hand.

"Is it _true_ that whatever you wish for has to come true?" he teased the employee.

"It's one hundred percent true," she replied with a small laugh.

"What did you wish for?" Blaine asked, elbowing Kurt in the ribs.

Kurt shook his head stubbornly. "No, no way, Blaine Anderson. I'm not telling you because _everyone _knows that if you tell someone else your wish, it won't come true."

"He's something, isn't he?" Blaine asked the employee.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later and they were elbow-deep in potential outfits. And anybody who knew Kurt would know that this was the most crucial part of the entire process. He'd already picked up and tossed aside a countless combination of clothing pieces.<p>

"You know, you don't _have_ to dress him," Blaine suggested.

Kurt gasped and put his hand to his chest in genuine horror. "How could you even say such a thing?"

"You're right, you're right. Browse on," Blaine hastily apologized.

Kurt scrutinized his boyfriend for a moment, studying him carefully. "You know what?" he asked, holding up his hands as if they were a frame and standing back. "I think I have my inspiration."

He turned back around and began rummaging through the clothes until he emerged triumphantly clutching his prize.

"Found one," he said.

"What is it?" Blaine asked.

He smiled when Kurt turned around to reveal what was in his hands:

A bowtie.

* * *

><p><em>AN: D'aaaaaaw, I'm such a holiday sap, okay? Don't strangle me._

_Wondering what Kurt's got planned for that bear? Well there might be another chapter going up in a few, who knows (;_

_In the meantime,** a review is always much appreciated :D**  
><em>


	5. Sally, Lights, and All Nighters

_#25 Give a gift to someone less fortunate_

* * *

><p>"And the secret is revealed," Blaine said as he got out of the passenger's side.<p>

Kurt went around to the trunk and opened up the latch. "_Almost._ I'm full of surprises."

He pulled out a huge bag, bulging with gift boxes. It was overflowing with boxes wrapped in shiny wrapping paper with bows and ribbon to go along with it.

"_How_ did you manage to do all this?" Blaine asked, giving him a hand. "I mean, you told me you wanted to give the bear - "

"_Brody._"

" - Brody," Blaine corrected himself. "You said you were going to give _Brody_ away to somebody, but you never said you were actually Father Christmas in disguise." He took the bag from Kurt, being the perfect gentleman. "Where'd you get all this stuff?" Amazement was clear in his voice.

"You're talking to the person who single-handedly organized funding for the entire school play, remember?"

"I'm pretty sure your dad helped you out there," Blaine teased.

"You say tomato, I say potato," Kurt waved him off. "So I just used my reliable contacts and got them to donate what they could. Then I asked them to ask _other people_ they knew who could help out and we got a little Christmas magic going on," he explained. "It's not nearly enough, but combined with my talent for snatching deals, it turned out pretty well."

"You will never cease to amaze me," Blaine told him.

"And since last week we visited the Lima Homeless Shelter, I thought we'd go spread cheer to another one," Kurt told him. "I just hope you're not to put out that this is our 'date night'," he said.

"Kurt," Blaine said softly.

There was just no way to explain how Blaine made his name sound like more than just a title that his parents gave him at birth. He made it sound like an apprehension, an absolution, a description, an apology, an expletive, or a statement all its own – like now.

"As long as I'm spending time with you, I don't care what we're doing," he said as if it were the obvious truth. "And I'd l_ove_ to help out in whatever way I can."

"Well you can help me by handing out all these gifts," Kurt said, gesturing to the bulging bag that Blaine was carrying. "And then helping me find the _perfect_ kid to give Brody to."

Blaine smiled at him. "I can do that."

* * *

><p>It was her. I <em>had <em>to be her. From the moment the stepped in the Rec Center, Kurt knew it was going to be her.

It was her eyes.

They were like a reflection of his mom's. It was like being thrown a decade into the past – as if he were looking into her eyes as she held his hand on the way home from school. Like being a little kid again and knowing nothing but the safety of her arms, the comforting sound of her voice, the familiar shade of those eyes. They even twinkled the same way when she smiled.

It _had_ to be her.

"Hi," he said softly, kneeling down next to her. "What's your name?"

The little girl was sitting right next to the small Christmas tree the shelter had set up. She looked about five years old, she was so tiny. In one hand she was clutching an ornament she must've snagged from one of the lower branches and the other one was stuffed in her mouth.

She didn't say anything for a moment, just lightly sucked on her fingers and stared.

"My name's Kurt," he told her, taking a seat on the tiled floor. "I like your sweater." He gestured to the light pink pull-over she was wearing. It was a little dirty on the edges, but she seemed to like it.

She moved away from him slightly, looking shyly down at the ground. "M' name's Sally," came the muffled reply around her fingers.

"_Sally_," Kurt repeated, nodding his head. "That's a really pretty name."

She shrugged. "A lot of little girls are named Sally," she told him. She blushed after saying so many words at once.

"You're the first Sally _I've_ ever met," he told her. "Which makes your name pretty special."

Her little eyes went wide with disbelief and she shook her head so hard that one of her blonde pigtails sat a little lower when she was through.

"Where are your parents?" Kurt asked, looking around at all the faces in the center.

Sally bounced her head from side to side, looking at the ground again. "They're in heaven," she answered simply. She didn't look upset about it, she just stated it matter-of-factly.

Kurt nodded solemnly. "Oh," he said softly. "My mom's there too." He gave her a sad smile. "At least I like to think she is, if such a place exists."

"_Really?_" Her voice rose with interest before dropping again. "Do you think she knows my mom and dad?" she asked in a low whisper.

"I'm sure she does," Kurt told her.

The little girl gave him a small smile and patted his hands in what was a universal gesture of comfort.

"Who takes care of you then?" Kurt asked. He was overwhelmed by sudden worry that no one looked after this sweet, little girl.

"Ellie," Sally answered brightly. "She's over there."

Kurt followed her grubby little hand to see a young girl, younger than him, who couldn't have been older than fourteen – fifteen at best. She was watching Sally and holding the hand of another little boy as she tried to spoon feed him some gooey mush.

"She's my friend," Sally clarified before going back to playing with her ornament. "I like her."

"I like her, too," he agreed. "So what did you ask Santa for this year?" Kurt asked lightly.

She shrugged. "Nothing. Santa doesn't come to homeless shelters. He stops at all the houses because they have chimneys." She leaned forward and cupped her hand over her mouth as she whispered to Kurt, "We don't have a chimney here."

He nodded empathetically. "I have it on good authority that he can use doors, too."

There was a little pout on her face and her shoulders sagged. "I don't think so. He always forgets me."

Kurt felt the heartstrings of his heart tug painfully. He couldn't imagine going through Christmas as a child without so much as a single gift.

"Well Santa had an opening for helpers this year, so I applied," Kurt told her slyly.

Her eyebrows shot up as he eyes grew huge. "Like an elf?"

"Yes," he confided in her. "Like an elf, only better."

"_Better?_" He didn't think her eyes could get any bigger.

"Yeah, because I don't have to wear the awful outfits. I'm…_undercover,_" he whispered to her.

"Does that mean you're like…_magical?_" she asked excitedly. "Can you grant wishes?"

"I'm not that advanced yet," Kurt admitted. "But I was wondering if you would do me a little favor, Sally."

"Sure," she agreed. "What is it?"

"I'm looking for somebody to look after my friend here." He pulled the bear out from behind his back and placed in her arms, which had reached for it the second it was exposed. "His name is Brody and he's very, _very_ special to me," Kurt explained. "I need someone just as special to look after him and take extra good care of him. Can you do that?"

"_Me?_" she asked in disbelief. She was already clutching the stuffed animal to her chest. "Of course I can! I'll be the best bear-watcher ever. We'll be best friends and go everywhere together and I'll tell him stories and sleep with him at night and and and…" she trailed off as she hugged Brody to her chest.

"You know, I wouldn't give him to somebody unless they were _extra_ special," Kurt told her. "And they have to be someone I _really _trust."

She squeezed Brody tight and he heard Blaine's "I love you" emitted from it. Sally lit up just like the Christmas tree next to her. She held it out in front of her with the world's widest grin.

"Did you _hear_ that?" she asked excitedly. "He talks!"

"He has a nice voice, doesn't he?" Kurt asked.

She nodded fervently. "It's like he was made especially for me," she squealed, clutching the bear tight.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" Kurt agreed with a knowing wink. "Let's just say I have an in with the big guy up north."

She gasped. "You've talked to Santa Claus?" she asked in a stunned tone. "Does he know me? Does he know who I am?"

"He knows _exactly_ who you are," Kurt said. "And he told me all about you. That's why he sent me here, to find you."

"Wow," she breathed. "Wow." She repeated the world to herself a few times as she looked over Brody. She straightened out his bow tie affectionately and patted him on the head. "Who are _you_ here with?" she asked Kurt. "Do you live here? Or do you live in the North Pole?"

"I'm just visiting with my very best friend," Kurt explained. "You see that guy over there on the piano?" Blaine's eyes landed on him as he pointed over and he gave Kurt a small smile.

She nodded. "The one dressed kind of like Brody?"

"That's the one," he answered her. "His name is Blaine."

"And you two are very,_ very_ best friends?" she inquired. "Like you would die without him?" She asked the question in all seriousness.

"Just like that," Kurt answered her. "But I don't think I have to worry about that." He smiled at her and she beamed back.

"Is he Santa's helper, too?"

"Sort of," Kurt said with a laugh. "Only I'm kind of better," he teased. "Don't tell him I said that."

"Your secret's safe with me," she promised, crossing her heart.

"How would you like it if Blaine read you a Christmas story?" he asked, propping himself up on his knees. "Would that be nice?"

"I'd like that," she told him, reaching out and taking his hand easily.

Together they walked over to the other side of the room where Blaine had a bunch of kids already latched onto him. Kurt couldn't help but giggle to himself as he watched Blaine converse animatedly with a young boy who was perched next to him on the piano bench.

"Who wants to hear a Christmas story?" Kurt asked over the din. "Blaine has the best reading voice in the _whole entire world_."

Shouts of disbelief met his declaration mixed in with the children starting to tug on Blaine's hands and begging, please, oh, please won't he just read one story? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

Blaine just smiled down at them and said, "Of course, I will."

Kurt sat took a seat with Sally, cross-legged on the floor towards the back. As Blaine found the story book, Sally crawled over into Kurt's lap and sat hugging Brody to her chest with a very content look on her face. Kurt couldn't suppress a smile at the pleasant warmth she emitted as she leaned back on his chest.

He looked up as Blaine began reading; all the children were latched on to his every word from the second he opened his mouth.

"T'was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring – not even a mouse…"

* * *

><p><em>#89 Hang Christmas lights in my room<em>

* * *

><p>"I don't understand why Finn can't help you out with the lights," Kurt grumbled as he untangled a particularly stubborn knot of colorful bulbs.<p>

"He has something else going on today," Burt explained.

Kurt harrumphed and climbed the old, creaky ladder, stapler gun in hand as he began securing the lights to the rooftop. "I'm only doing this for you because I worry about your health," he informed his dad.

"Kurt, I had some heart problems - "

"_Dad,_" Kurt shot back. "You had a heart attack."

"All the same, my dexterity is _fine,_" Burt said gruffly.

"If you think I'm going to let you climb up a ladder and get on the roof to do the second story, you're out of your mind. In your state, you can't be allowed to do that."

"I'm _fine,_ Kurt," Burt repeated.

"I'm younger," Kurt insisted. "If I fall off the roof, I'll be fine."

Burt scoffed.

"I'll be_ relatively_ okay," Kurt corrected himself. "But you'll probably die on the spot."

"That's the Christmas spirit," Burt replied sarcastically.

"Are you _rolling your eyes_ at me?" Kurt asked in disbelief. "Seriously, Dad?"

"Hey, I've learned from the best," Burt replied as he handed Kurt the next line.

Kurt shrugged. "What can I say, it's a talent." He hiked one leg up on the shingles of the roof and steadied himself.

"Careful," Burt warned from the ground. "If you're not sure about this, I can go track down Finn."

"Don't bother," Kurt called back, regaining his balance and beginning to walk along the rooftop. "He's probably out somewhere necking - " He cut himself off, "I mean, _hanging out_ with Rachel. I won't ruin his date – Lord knows he doesn't get many of them."

"What are you muttering about up there?" Burt called.

"Nothing," Kurt answered in a louder voice. "I was just wondering if these lights clashed with my outfit."

"Just hang the lights so you can get back down here. You don't want to end your Senior Year in a neck brace, do you? _Those_ are hard to accessorize."

"I'd find a way," Kurt mumbled to himself as he began stapling the lights to the second story. "I'm going to get Finn back for not being here."

Two hours and three very near-miss stumbles on the rooftop, Kurt finally had the lights up. Every string was tested, clear icicle lights trickling down from every eave. There were lights adorning the fences and even nets of colorful lights covering each bush. He and his dad stood back to admire their teamwork.

"It looks good," Kurt said. "_But_ you're going to have to get Finn to help you take them down because I never want to do that again."

Burt laughed and clapped Kurt on the back. "It's a deal, kiddo."

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't know how long he slept for. All he knew was that he was sore all over and the fact that he'd fallen asleep on the couch probably wasn't helping matters.<p>

He rolled over to face the living room and he noticed a quilt was placed over his torso. He pulled out his arms from under it and stretched while simultaneously yawning, which ended up as a kind of squealing mixed in with moaning as some of his joints popped from staying still too long.

He was massaged his neck when a voice came from the kitchen.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," Blaine said from where he sat at the Hummel-Hudson kitchen table.

Finn snorted ungracefully from where he sat across from Blaine. The two were indulging in Christmas cookies that Carole must've made sometime in the afternoon.

"Hmm?" Kurt murmured as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes. "What? How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours," Finn answered. "More than enough time." He and Blaine bumped fists.

"Enough time to what?" Kurt asked groggily. He threw the quilt over his head. It only took him a moment before he was tossing it back and sitting up so quickly that his neck cracked. "Blaine, why are you here?" he asked, his voice rising a little bit on the last word. "Did we have a date?" Dread filled him. "Did I forget that I invited you over?" He was beginning to feel incredibly panicked. "Blaine, I'm _so_ sorry – It's just been a long few days and it must've just slipped my mind. If there's any way I can make it up to you – I'll do anything - "

Blaine got up and shushed Kurt, gesturing gently with his hands. "No, we didn't have a date." He came and sat down on the couch next to Kurt. "I just needed Finn's help with something."

"You have that look," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Blaine looked clueless. "What look?" he asked innocently.

Kurt's eyes were almost slits. "That look like you're planning something. And I won't like it."

Blaine shook his head. "Now you're just assuming things. Are you sure you don't need some more sleep?" he teased, running his hands through the back of Kurt's hair which was ruffled from sleeping.

"I'm fine," Kurt said, rubbing his eyes again. "And I'll be better when I find out what you're scheming."

"Who's _scheming?_" Finn protested from the table, reaching in for his fifth consecutive cookie. "We're just two pals hanging out."

"I don't trust you two," Kurt said, swinging his legs off the couch and wrapping the quilt around his shoulders.

"Come over here and get some sugar in your system, honey," Carole called from somewhere near the oven. "You're always crabby after a nap."

"I am _not,_" Kurt grumbled as he clutched the blanket around himself and shuffled into the kitchen, Blaine on his heels.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, what is this about?" Kurt asked an hour later. He'd finally freshened up a bit, but he still felt thoroughly exhausted. "I'm not in the mood for surprises."<p>

"Then what _are_ you in the mood for?" Blaine purred.

Kurt brought his hand out from under the blanket and smacked Blaine's arm with as much strength as he could muster. "Shut up, my parents could hear you." He turned his nose up in the air. "And if you must know, I just want to fall asleep in your arms right now."

"That could be arranged," Blaine said with a small smile. "I just want you to see something first."

"Is this a gift?" Kurt asked. "I bet it's a gift."

"It's a _sort of_ gift," Blaine admitted. "It's more of a surprise – a favor."

"But I don't have anything to give you in return," Kurt said. "I mean, I have a gift for you, but I'm not giving it to you until Christmas and you can't make me change my mind," he said stubbornly.

"I told you, it's a quasi-gift," Blaine repeated. "You can think of how to pay me back later." He gave Kurt a big, cheesy wink.

"Oh, God," Kurt groaned, feigning exasperation.

He sagged against Blaine's shoulder as the approached his bedroom. The door was shut, strangely enough. Kurt made a point of leaving it open unless it was nighttime.

"I'm just really sleepy," he complained, holding Blaine's hand as he was led towards the bedroom. "I want to go to bed."

"And you will. You just have to see something first."

It was early evening and the sun had already set – thanks to the end of Daylight Savings Time – and Kurt's room was pitch black when he entered it. He stumbled inside, his hand searching blindly along the wall for the switch he knew was there.

"Blaine, why are the lights off?" he asked.

Finally his fingers found the switch and flicked it on. Kurt had to cover his eyes to readjust from the light. He could tell from behind his eyelids that it wasn't normal light filtering from a lamp, but many different colors entering his field of vision.

He peeked between his fingers to see the entire border of his bedroom adorned with small strings of twinkling lights. Some were draped over the headboard of his bed and others were hanging over his window. There was even a tiny, battery-operated tree in the corner of his room with miniature ornaments hanging from its artificial branches.

"_Blaine,_" he breathed in amazement, reaching behind him to grab his boyfriend's hand. "You did all this?"

"I called in a favor with Finn," Blaine explained with a grin. "So I can't take _all_ the credit." He smirked, "Though I happily would if you'd like."

"You know how I feel about you two plotting things," Kurt teased, winding an arm around Blaine's waist. "But really, this is the best my room has ever looked." He felt Blaine's arms wrapping around his shoulders. "Thank you," he said softly, pressing a small kiss to Blaine's neck. "Come here," he murmured, tugging Blaine closer. "No mistletoe needed."

And in the colorful array of lights basking his bedroom with a Christmas-y glow, they kissed.

* * *

><p><em>#91 Stay up all night on Christmas Eve<em>

* * *

><p>"You're really sure you don't have anywhere you need to be?" Kurt asked Blaine for the hundredth time. "I don't want to get you into any trouble with your family, depriving them of you on Chistmas Eve and all..."<p>

"Don't worry, Kurt. They're spending Christmas in New York," Blaine said, not appearing bothered at all by this fact.

"And you're okay with that?" Kurt asked, squeezing his hand.

Blaine shrugged. "I'm spending Christmas with you – so really I'm getting the better end of the deal." He pressed a soft, quick kiss to Kurt's lips. "I'm fine," he insisted.

"Well then you're going to have the best Christmas ever," Kurt told him. "We are going to marathon every single classic Christmas movie there is, we're going to do some last minute wrapping, and we're going to drink lots and _lots_ of Peppermint-flavored coffee." He lowered his voice, "Plus Carole made this homemade fudge and I plan on going into a chocolate coma," he confided in Blaine.

"How will we sleep if we drink a lot of coffee?" Blaine asked. "I'd like to sleep when I get home."

"If you think you're going home to an empty house to wake up all alone, you have bigger problems than your caffeine intake," Kurt informed him.

"I couldn't possibly stay here," Blaine said as he hung up his coat in the downstairs closet.

"Of course you can," Burt said from the kitchen. "No funny business," he warned the pair. "But you can stay here, Blaine. I'd just feel wrong if we sent you home to no one."

"Way to eavesdrop, Dad," Kurt said, but he shot his father a look of gratefulness.

"You're welcome," Burt grumbled as he went back to not-so-subtly stealing Christmas candies from the dish in the center of the table.

"Wow, Kurt, you really get into the spirit for someone who claims to be an Atheist," Blaine teased as they sat on the couch.

"Just because I don't believe itty bitty baby Jesus was born tomorrow doesn't mean I don't appreciate a good gift – or a good sale," Kurt joked back. "It's a time for family is all. I'm considering becoming a follower of the Flying Spaghetti Monster." When Blaine gave him an incredulous look, he burst out laughing. "Don't know what it is? Google it."

"I know, I know," Blaine said, "I'm just giving you a hard time."

Kurt poked him in the ribs. "That's not very Christmas-y of you," he said with a small pout.

He wouldn't quit making the face until Blaine kissed it away. They would've missed the entire beginning of the movie they'd started if Finn hadn't awkwardly cleared his throat from behind them.

Kurt sighed and leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder.

* * *

><p>Blaine heard the light tread of footsteps on carpet as he'd finally gotten comfortable on the inflatable mattress in the living room. He turned his head just in time to see Kurt tip-toe-ing down the hallway.<p>

"Kurt, we're supposed to be in _bed,_" Blaine whispered. "You're going to get us both in trouble."

"Oh, calm down," Kurt whispered back. "I'm not here to take jeopardize your virtue," he said with a smirk. "It's too late for that anyways."

Blaine pressed his lips together to conceal a laugh and settled with just shaking his head in Kurt's general direction.

He watched as Kurt knelt down to the tree that was set up in the corner of the room and plugged it in. A million colors lit the room, bouncing off of the reflective surfaces of millions of ornaments. No matter how old he got, Blaine still found his breath being taken away by the appearance of a well-decorated tree.

There were a few packages beneath the tree wrapped in shining paper, the bows atop them glistening in the light. There were four stockings hung on the mantel of the fireplace, arranged by age: Burt, Carole, Finn, and Kurt – Kurt's being the most flamboyant of them all with an excess of glitter.

Kurt walked over and started a small fire, just the way his dad had taught him to. He was practically an expert and Blaine felt warmer in no time.

Blaine scooted over and allowed Kurt to sit beside him on the air mattress, pulling the sheets over his legs.

"Were you falling asleep?" Kurt asked as he rested a hand across Blaine's chest.

"I was considering it," Blaine mumbled sleepily, leaning over to press a kiss to Kurt's forehead. "But I could never get to sleep now that you're here."

"So that's a good thing then," Kurt said with a grin.

Blaine shrugged. "Why's that?" he asked.

"Because we're staying up all night long," Kurt said. "It's required – it's on the list," he insisted.

"That's impossible," Blaine told him. "Didn't you ever try to do that when you were young?"

"Are you kidding? It was _easy_ when I was young," Kurt said. "As if I could sleep on Christmas Eve anyways. I was up all night. And every time I thought I was falling asleep my brain would just get all excited again and I'd wake up." He laughed to himself. "My mom didn't mind, but my dad hated it. I would notoriously wake them up at two in the morning and then every hour after that, asking if it was okay if we went downstairs to open gifts yet. I don't know why I bothered asking, they made me wait every year until six in the morning."

"Can't blame a kid for trying," Blaine agreed. "I used to say that I was going to stay up and wait for Santa. Mostly just because I wanted to prove that it was really my parents who were just doing a convincing job, but still. I used to plot it all out – I'd stash a sleeping bag behind the Christmas tree. I told myself I'd sneak out of bed, go down there, unroll my sleeping bag and put it right in front of the fireplace. That way, if Santa did exist, he'd have to trip over me to get to the tree." Blaine laughed at his own story. "Well, that was my logic anyways."

"Did you ever get close?" Kurt asked as Blaine's arm slipped around him.

Blaine shook his head. "My dad caught me every year – before I even got out of my room. He'd yell at me and tell me to go to bed."

"Sounds familiar," Kurt agreed.

"But this is kind of what I had in mind every year when I planned it out," Blaine admitted. "The fire going, the tree lights on – it just gives it the right feel."

"Do you think we'll make it through the night?" Kurt asked.

Blaine considered it for a moment. "How about we negotiate and say midnight?" he bargained.

Kurt scoffed. "Your wimpy butt can fall asleep at midnight, but I'm going for the gold," he joked.

"Well will you wake me up and tell me how it went then?" Blaine teased back as he nuzzled into Kurt's side.

It _was _quite cozy after all and Kurt smelled like a mixture of his moisturizing cream and the comforting aroma of burning fire wood. Wrapped in his arms, Blaine knew he wouldn't last very long until sleep overcame him. Maybe he'd make it to midnight, maybe he wouldn't.

"I'd stay up if you gave me a r_eason_ to stay up," Blaine said with a smirk.

"No," Kurt told him, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. "It's not that I don't want to, but this isn't exactly a private space. And the lights and the fire are kind of warning signs for anyone who gets up in the middle of the night."

"I hate you and your logic," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's neck.

"If Finn wasn't such a child at heart I'd say that'd be a nice way to start Christmas morning," Kurt muttered. "But he'll be over here rifling through gifts at three am like clockwork." He chuckled to himself. "My Dad and Carole have kind of just given up and they wake up when we do now."

"Kurt Hummel, eager to open Christmas presents," Blaine mused. "And what could you possibly want that you couldn't get yourself?"

"I've already gotten what I wanted," Kurt said. "I get to spend Christmas with you – I didn't ask for anything else."

Blaine leaned over and kissed Kurt - a soft, lazy kiss. His legs were intertwined with Kurt's and his fingers were brushing aside the silky material of his pajama top. His hands moved upwards to rest on Kurt's neck as they kissed, slowly and thoroughly.

Kurt sighed as he rested his hand over Blaine's, their fingertips interlocking as they continued their unhurried , methodic movements. The touch of their lips were light as a feather and they didn't pull away for a long period of time. Maybe it was only a few minutes, but when Kurt's lips were on his, every sweet second felt like a blessed hour. Time passed differently when Kurt touched him, and Blaine couldn't say he minded.

"Now, if you keep doing _that,_ then I won't be able to go to sleep," Blaine told him.

Kurt smirked. "Whatever technique works…" He kissed Blaine's neck in the same manner he'd just kissed his lips.

"Behave," Blaine said, tickling Kurt's sides until Kurt squirmed away. "There's plenty of time for that later. I can't disrespect your tree by consummating with you all night long."

"Whatever," Kurt said with a laugh. He allowed Blaine to curl up by his side.

"Wake me up when Santa gets here," Blaine teased. He was feeling drowsy already, being doused in Kurt's delectable body heat.

"I'll be sure to consult with him and plan ahead for next year. Maybe I can convince him to ditch that god-awful ensemble. So last century," Kurt teased back. He checked his phone which was in his pocket and smiled at what was on the screen.

"What's the joke?" Blaine asked.

"It's past midnight," Kurt answered. "It's Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Kurt," Blaine said.

He leaned over and kissed Kurt the way only a man truly in love could kiss another person: gently, using his lips to convey meaning. Kurt responded enthusiastically, hooking his arm around Blaine to keep him there for a little while longer than was expected. When they parted, he leaned in for one last quick kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Blaine."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Whoooo, I'm just full of Christmassy, holiday schtuff. Let me cute, you guys, okay?_

_Hooray! Depending on how things go, I might write a chapter for New Year's bucket list items next week. Huffah for "Before I Die - Holiday Edition"! _

_Anyway, happy holidays - Happy Christmahanukwanzika! Happy Holidays and if you don't celebrate, then happy YOU day (:_


	6. Good Company and Ringing in the New Year

_#10 Spend New Year's with all my friends_

* * *

><p>It was always a strange feeling, waking up on the last day of the year. It made Kurt feel oddly sentimental. As if the calendar embodied all his memories from the three-hundred and sixty five days past and not his own mind.<p>

He tried to think of who he'd been exactly a year ago – a nearly impossible feat. It wasn't easy, remembering just how different of a person he was back then. Estranged from his friends at McKinley and trying desperately to catch up with them over the break from school, still pining helplessly over Blaine, still running from his demons.

He rolled over and groped blindly for his phone on the bedside table. He scrolled through the menu and opened an all-too familiar text that said one word: _Courage._

Ironically, he never had enough courage to delete it. But he didn't want to. He'd open it up and look at the familiar combination of letters, coming together to form a word that had become a daily mantra; a statement he'd uttered to himself when he felt alone and scared. Now he kept it as a reminder of the dark place he'd never have to return to. That place he'd left behind the day he took Blaine's hand over a year ago.

It all came back to him in floods:

Late afternoon coffee dates, emergency Warbler meetings and practices where Blaine's shoulders or legs brushed his, taking care of Pavarotti together, impromptu performances, countless days spent wandering the grounds of Dalton while exchanging stories, guiding Blaine into bed after Rachel's sham of a party, the fake jewels that lay forgotten on the table after their first kiss – and second, and third, and fourth… - Candles, walking away from Pav's tiny, tiny little grave hand-in-hand.

The way the Warblers sang to him when he transferred back to McKinley, the sound of Blaine running after him in the hallway, the way his voice sounded when he asked for Kurt to dance with him at prom, the look in his eyes when he told Kurt he loved him for the first time – Kurt smiled as he remembered that moment. He thought about the way they embraced when Blaine announced his transfer, how he felt watching Blaine audition for West Side Story from the balcony in the theater, about when he picked out the bouquet to give him at school.

Their first time…Kurt let his mind linger on that one perfect moment in time. He'd always wondered growing up how it would feel to share that part of himself with another person. He was terrified about all the ways he could possibly screw it up; always going over worst-case scenarios in his mind until he was petrified by the mere thought. But when the time came for him and Blaine, he didn't hesitate one second. He remembered the way Blaine's fingers brushed his, the tender way their lips met, the way it felt when it was over – wonderful and with no regrets. It was one of the best memories he had, now suspended in time; an image he revisited often behind closed lids.

More memories washed over him:

Passing periods spent holding one another's hands, mentoring Rory together for the New Directions' mash-up, the way Blaine was looking at him as he delivered his campaign speech, finding Blaine in the hallway after being accused of stuffing the ballot box – the way he just cried as Blaine held him and told him it was going to be okay. He thought of how Blaine convinced him to send in his NYADA application while helping him scout out backup schools, how he told Kurt to never give up hope. He smirked as he recalled how attracted he was to Blaine when he'd argued with Sam. He grinned to himself as he thought of how it felt to sing side by side with him in all their duets and competition numbers, and how much fun it was to host a Christmas Special with his "holiday roommate".

He thought of how many things they had accomplished in such a short space of time, involving his bucket list and just spending time with one another. And they were no where near done yet. He thought of the Christmas they'd spent together – their first as a couple – and the way Blaine kissed him beneath the mistletoe.

All in all, a busy year – a year well spent. Three-hundred and sixty fives days of love – even if three months of those were dedicated to courting an at-one-point-clueless Blaine - it had been, without a doubt, the best year of his life. And things could only get better come the New Year – unscathed by mistakes or doubts.

It was a blank slate, an unfilled calendar waiting for Kurt and Blaine to mark it up with laughter, smiles, kisses, embraces, mishaps, arguments, petty bitterness, and lots and lots of make up time. It was waiting to be passed with hours on the phone, countless "I love you's", and those seemingly endless stretches of time whenever they touched.

There was no telling what it could hold, but Kurt knew that he was willing to find out with Blaine at his side – like it should be.

* * *

><p>"And what are <em>you<em> laughing about?" Blaine asked, elbowing Kurt – who was sitting cross-legged on the center of a certain ex-Warbler's bed – in the ribs.

Kurt tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, but he couldn't help it. "I was thinking of your face after the Warbler Gap Attack," he admitted.

Blaine looked heavenward before falling back on his mattress as if he simply couldn't stand a second longer. "You said we'd never talk about that again."

"And remember your sudden hate for Valentine's Day?" Kurt remembered. "That was priceless."

"Be quiet, Meg Ryan," Blaine teased.

"I will when you admit how dumb you were, Billy Crystal," Kurt razzed back.

"Let's talk about _your_ gas pain faces," Blaine said, pulling his legs up onto the bed.

Kurt scoffed. "_My_ gas pain faces? What about your notion that foam and beach balls are undeniably sexy?"

"You know you wanted me in the warehouse," Blaine purred.

Kurt suppressed a smile. "Of course I did. It was _hot_." He let his voice hang on the last word seductively.

It had the desired effect – Blaine practically jumping on him, grabbing his face and kissing him intently. Kurt leaned back from the force of it all, but quickly regained his balance and leaned into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Blaine as their tongues met. Blaine's hands rested on Kurt's thighs as they parted.

"I knew you liked it," Blaine murmured.

Kurt shrugged. "You were completely distracted by my dance moves, if I remember correctly." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "I completely _unhinged_ you."

"Only because your sexy faces were so…concerning," Blaine replied with a light laugh.

Kurt rolled his eyes before placing a hand square in the center of Blaine's chest. He enjoyed the way Blaine watched as he pushed him back onto the pillows. Before they knew it, Kurt was straddling him and their lips were dangerously close; so close that every breath sent tingles down Kurt's spine.

"I think I've made some definite improvement," Kurt said in a low voice.

Blaine swallowed hard. He placed a hand on Kurt's neck, using his thumb to trace the line of his cheek. "I'd say you excelled rather quickly," he admitted.

Their lips met in infuriatingly soft kisses. Every time Blaine tried to pull him closer, Kurt would keep his distance, loving the way he made Blaine squirm beneath him. The pace was too slow, too torturous for the way their bodies were connected; for where their hands were placed, for the hunger hidden behind each measured movement.

Kurt pulled back with a satisfied smirk at Blaine's frustration. One of his hands was resting on Blaine's chest still, making small circles in the fabric of his shirt.

"_Too_ good," Blaine said huskily. "Much too good."

"So have you decided what we're doing tonight?" Kurt asked innocently. When Blaine raised his eyebrows, Kurt smacked his chest. "Not like _that,_" he scorned.

"Well, there was this invite I got to a party," Blaine replied coyly, playing with the skin just beneath the hem of Kurt's shirt. "An invite which I extended to our fellow glee-clubbers and I think you'd be interested in going – seeing as how it's on your list and everything."

"Please just say it's not Rachel who's throwing a party," Kurt pleaded. "I don't need anybody stealing my boyfriend – not tonight," he joked.

"It's not Rachel," Blaine promised. "Anyways, Finn swore he'd never let Rachel throw a party ever again."

Kurt sighed. "Yes, not one of my more fond memories of this past year." He pressed a finger to Blaine's nose, affectionately poking it. "And definitely not one of _your_ finer moments."

"Let it die, Kurt," Blaine said. "Let it die."

"Fine," Kurt said. "So who's throwing the party then?"

"You'll love this – _Wes_."

"I wasn't aware that Wes knew the definition of 'party'," Kurt said, hearing his own amazement. "Are you sure you've got the right Wes?"

Blaine chuckled. "Yes. And he's loosened up a bit now that he's graduated and he's not on the council anymore. He and David are renting this house together – it's really nice, really upscale - "

"Yeah, I'm sure they can afford that," Kurt agreed, knowing how many of his old Warbler friends lived in the lap of luxury. "Wait, isn't David still at Dalton?"

"Yup," Blaine answered. "But their place is halfway between Dalton and the University, so they commute to their own places. David doesn't complain because he hated boarding at Dalton anyways."

Kurt shook his head. "Those two," he said to himself. "Unbelievable."

"Yeah," Blaine said. "So anyways, they want to really break it in with a New Year's party. I heard all the Warblers were going and I know how you miss them…"

"I do," Kurt nodded sadly. "But you said people from McKinley were going too? Who?"

"Well, Finn texted me and said he and Rachel are a go. Mike called me yesterday and said he and Tina would love to come – once they've extracted themselves from whatever family event their parents have planned – then Sam said he'd come if he could coerce Mercedes into being his date…Plus he was going to bring Rory with him."

"Sneaky as ever," Kurt said in amusement.

"Brittany and Santana were going to go hang out at Quinn's house, but I think they said those plans were tentative and they'd be sure to bring Quinn along."

"Just about everyone."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. "And Wes said the more the merrier…"

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure he didn't suffer some kind of concussion between graduation and now?"

"Well as long as we stick around tomorrow to help him clean up the place, he said it was alright."

"_Tomorrow?_" Kurt asked. "As in sleeping over?"

"Montgomery house rules," Blaine shrugged. "Everyone has to turn over their keys and everyone has to stay over – for safety purposes," he added quickly.

"Mmhmm," Kurt murmured. "And – for safety purposes – would I have to share a bed with you?"

"Not if you didn't want to," Blaine teased. "I could sleep in the bathtub if you'd like, your highness."

"I'm giving you a drink limit, mister," Kurt warned. "I don't need you being the sloppy drunk that you are."

Blaine stuck out his tongue. "Is that just your fabricated excuse so that you can drink more than me and take advantage of me?"

"I don't need alcohol to do that," Kurt said as he leaned forward.

He heard Blaine's breath catch the second before their lips met. His teeth raked over Blaine's lower lip, drawing it into his mouth for a brief moment before they met again in an even hungrier kiss. Blaine was clutching at Kurt's clothes and Kurt felt his knees digging into Blaine's mattress as he tried to anchor himself. It was so easy to just lose himself in Blaine's touch; to just give in and have his way.

His own fingers curled around the edges of Blaine's pillow, gripping the fabric as one of Blaine's kisses sent him reeling. He felt one of Blaine's hand holding his waist, a finger under the waistband of his underwear. He had to break for air, but Blaine just moved his mouth to kiss Kurt's neck, his jaw, his earlobe. He knew he should care about how loud he was panting, but at that particular moment, he honestly didn't care.

"One last time before the New Year?" Blaine begged against Kurt's throat.

Kurt struggled to form words. "Well, when you put it that way…"

* * *

><p>"Whoa," Kurt breathed as he got out of Blaine's car. "This place is…<em>ridiculously<em> huge."

"Well you know what their parents do for a living," Blaine said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but for their first house?" Kurt asked.

Blaine just waved him away. "Who says they have to move out? The better their first house is, the less likely it is that there'll be a second…"

"I'd have to sell an arm and a leg just for an _apartment,_" Kurt complained, still in awe.

Blaine slung an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Deep breaths. Let it go."

Kurt exhaled, keeping his eyes trained on Blaine. "I'm fine. I'm okay. It's just a house, right?"

"Right," Blaine echoed.

They'd parked along the sidewalk seeing how the driveway, though large, was already filled with cars. Blaine held Kurt's hand as they walked up to the door. They exchanged glances before Kurt stepped forward to ring the doorbell. He felt Blaine give his hand a squeeze as it was answered.

Oddly enough, it was neither Wes nor David who answered the door.

"Blaine!" exclaimed Jeff.

He didn't even get the chance to greet either of them properly seeing as how the small entryway was bombarded with casually dressed Warblers in a matter of seconds. They were in an uproar trying to reach Kurt and Blaine.

Kurt felt himself being pulled inside and he was hugging Nick, then Jeff, then Thad. Everyone was talking at once, shouting the normal greetings to one another as they all embraced and shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Kurt was just so glad to be reunited with them all again properly, he was practically bursting with happiness.

Wes finally appeared, causing everyone to settle down a bit – he just had that presence that could silence a room. Thankfully his gavel was no where to be seen (no doubt it was encased in a glass container and on display in his bedroom or something of the like).

"Wes," Kurt said with a smile, hugging him warmly. "This place is _amazing,_ honestly," he gushed.

"A graduation present," Wes said as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a parent to gift their teenager. "We're just glad you could make it."

This simple greeting reintroduced the din and soon everyone was being ushered furthur inside where the party spilled from the kitchen, to the living room, and out onto the patio. There was the whole nine yards: good food (and junk food), plenty of drinks – alcoholic and nonalcoholic – to go around for all, upbeat music, and a dance floor on the patio. Someone had even thought to decorate the overhead lattice with lights.

The were so busy swapping stories and making future plans that it was no time before the rest of the guests had arrived. Some of them were Wes' pals from college, the others were various members of the New Directions, and the rest, well Kurt just honestly had no idea. But they were all nice and friendly and everyone was getting along remarkably well.

Some of the more tipsy girls were sitting on some of the Warblers' laps, flirting shamelessly. There were always a mass of bodies on the dance floor and already rumors were spreading about who would kiss whom come midnight.

"I heard Jessica Clemens was going to kiss you," Nick told Jeff, eyeing him worriedly. "You know, she's from Crawford Country Day – Dalton's sister school."

"Well she can _try,_" the blonde scoffed. "But I won't be kissing _her._"

"Who are you going to kiss?" Blaine asked, elbowing him suggestively.

Jeff mimed zipping his lips shut. "I'll never tell," he said as he tossed the "key" over his shoulder.

"Do you think Wes is going to bring out his gavel to kiss?" Thad joked. "I bet he polished it just for the occasion."

"Actually, I think Wes has got his sights set on some girl he knows through school," Kurt said, glancing over at their host who was not-so-chastely dancing on the dance floor – all inhibitions gone. "He might be too busy _consummating_."

"Where's Rachel?" Trent asked Finn. "You don't want her going off on her own with all this alcohol around," he teased, causing all of the listening New Directions to laugh.

"Yeah, I don't need her being a needy drunk again," Finn agreed. "I'm going to go find her." He walked onto the dance floor, bravely facing the throng before he was swallowed up.

Kurt was sitting on Blaine's lap, an arm around his neck since all the available seats were taken. He couldn't say he objected to Blaine's warm arm wound around his waist. He himself was sipping a mere wine cooler.

"_I_ have a drink limit," Blaine informed all his Dalton friends.

Nick imitated holding a whip and cracked it with swooshing sound. "You are _so_ married," he said. "It's disgusting." He pantomimed gagging to Jeff who laughed at his imitation.

"Hey now," Kurt said defensively. "You all know what Blaine gets like with a few drinks in his system. I don't need to be extracting him from one Sebastian Smythe tomorrow morning," he joked.

He turned to see the Warbler in question out on the dance floor nearby, grinding against an attractive college student – male, of course. No doubt his latest conquest that would run its course until the next morning.

"Good call," Jeff commented, patting Kurt on the back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I simply _must_ go get my groove on."

Kurt shook his head as the blonde grabbed the nearest female and spun her out onto the dance floor. He noted Nick watching disdainfully before busying himself by eating.

Kurt stood up and extended his hand to Blaine. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

"Of course," Blaine replied with the same mock formality.

Kurt dragged him into the middle of it all. The exhilaration was undeniable with so much adrenaline in the air. Everyone was dancing and cheering and carrying on. Kurt spotted Rachel latched on to Finn, swaying slowly from side to side even though it wasn't a slow song.

It was a relief to be dancing to something that wasn't choreographed. Kurt let himself shimmy to his heart content, laughing when Blaine returned the motion with a strange gyrating of his own shoulders. They were connected by the hands, turning in circles and pulling one another close.

Kurt placed his hands on Blaine's lower back as they danced as one. He let his hands roam, not caring who saw (because honestly, there were people doing much, _much_ worse) and loving how Blaine's breathing was accelerating not because of his exertions on the dance floor.

He spun in a little circle and Blaine caught him and pulled him into his chest so that Kurt's back was pressed against it. His hands were on Kurt's thighs and holding him close. They were both laughing and having a good time, letting their hands touch one another however felt right. Kurt felt Blaine's hips moving and he moved his, doing whatever the upbeat music was telling him to do.

The bass thumped loudly, causing vibrations to go through the ground and Kurt turned back around wrap his arms around Blaine's neck. They were crushed flush against one another, but neither seemed to mind as the music built. Kurt closed the small gap between them and kissed Blaine quickly.

It was nice; casual and easy. They didn't have to hide who they were here because no one was passing judgment. And honestly it felt nice to dance with a Blaine who wasn't drunk and be able to feel every single, solitary touch and emotion. It was a nice change of pace to be able to kiss Blaine and not worry about anyone jeering at them. It was wonderful to be surrounded by friends, both old and new, on this night of endless possibilities.

* * *

><p>"Any New Year's resolutions?" Kurt asked Blaine, feeling practically giddy as they stood on the lawn of Wes and David's backyard.<p>

Blaine shrugged. "To love you more," he murmured. "Does that count?"

"No," Kurt said, but he grinned anyways. "Take me, for instance. _I'm_ going to cross more things off my bucket list," he said.

"That's cheating," Blaine insisted. "We're already doing that - here and now."

"Don't knock my resolution," Kurt warned, giving Blaine a little shove. "I also plan on getting more solos."

"That sounds more like it," Blaine said. "But good luck stealing them from _me._"

"You're on," Kurt said, staring Blaine down as if he were sizing him up.

Blaine mimicked him, narrowing his eyes and studying Kurt. "_You're_ on."

"Alright!" David shouted from where he was standing on a chair. "Ten seconds til the New Year. Find that special someone, ladies and gentlemen."

There was scurrying and murmurs as everyone rearranged themselves under the night sky - couples and rambunctious singles alike. Kurt bit his lip, excited that he would be sharing his first ever New Year's kiss with Blaine - and hopefully never have to kiss anyone different for all his years to come.

His arm was around Blaine's waist as the crowd counted down.

"_3_..."

Blaine looked over at Kurt, as if he had eyes only for him.

"_2_..."

Kurt smiled at him, letting his gaze flicker from Blaine's eyes to his lips and then back again.

"_1!_"

A lot of things happened at once: People from all over the neighborhood were cheering and screaming "Happy New Year!" A group of people had popped shaken bottles of champage all at once and Kurt could feel the mist of the streams of foam floating over them in the breeze. Some of the Warblers who didn't want to be caught kissing anyone had climbed on top of the lattice and had procured a hidden stash of confetti which they were tossing over the crowd in the background. It was drifting in the wind and falling all around them.

But the most notable thing for Kurt Hummel was the fact that Blaine was cupping his cheek and pulling him closer. The most important thing was the way Blaine had slowly shut his eyes before pressing his lips against Kurt's - lazily at first, then more firmly. The most significant on-going was the fact that Kurt was in Blaine's arms and he was kissing him back. He was pulling Blaine forward by the lapels of his jacket and parting his lips with a sigh. The best part wasn't the fact that it was raining confetti down on them or that everyone around them was spreading the love or who was hooking up at that moment, because he was lost.

He was lost in Blaine. In his touch, in his warm breath that hit his cheeks, in his secure embrace. It was as if the clock was stopping at midnight and everything was growing still; inconsequential. The music was fading in Kurt's ears as his fingertips touched Blaine's neck, slightly covered in stubble here and there, and as their mouths continued moving against one another.

When they parted, Kurt felt slightly dizzy from all the good kissing and he leaned against Blaine, feeling more than a little blissed out as Blaine grinned back at him. There were some catcalls from some of their nearby friends, but they ignored them.

Somewhere nearby someone had started lighting fireworks. There was a whizzing and then a huge bang as they exploded in the sky. All the party's attendants ooh-ed and ahh-ed appropriately, watching the colors in the sky in awe. Everyone's faces were turned to the sky.

Kurt laced his fingers through Blaine's and turned from the fireworks to look at Blaine. Blaine, whose eyes were shining in excitement and whose mouth was slightly agape as he watched the fireworks. His skin was changing color with each new burst of light.

Kurt tugged Blaine's hand, forcing him to take a step closer before capturing his lips once more in a lingering kiss. He felt Blaine sigh as his arms wound around Blaine, splayed against his back. His hands were framing Blaine's face and one of Blaine's hands was resting on his chest. Kurt felt Blaine tilt his head slightly as the kiss grew deeper, hotter, more drawn out. Behind his lids he could still see the sky changing color: from red to blue to green to white. There was so much commotion on the lawn that no one noticed them at all as they continued to kiss their way into the New Year.

Kurt bit his lip, trying to hide a wide smile when they finally pulled apart. Blaine hadn't let him go so he was still nestled deliciously in his arms. He rested his head on Blaine's shoulder, just standing there and allowing himself to be held as the party raged on around them.

Surely this was the way to kick off a brand new year: in the arms of the person you loved.

And he didn't hesitate to tell Blaine so.

* * *

><p><em>AN: That had more Kurt/Blaine feelings than I thought it would. For accuracy, I spent this morning watching over three hours' worth of nothing but Klaine moments. I think it gave me all the right emotions to kick off this chapter while simultaneously reminding me of how much hope and inspiration these two characters give me._

_But seriously, **thank you to every single one of you who has this story alerted and who gives me support** - the number of you is truly overwhelming and I have to thank you for bearing with me and allowing me to explore these little holiday bucket listy moments. I hope you enjoyed this one because I absolutely loved writing it!_


	7. Masquerade

_#6 Spend a perfect Valentine's Day with my perfect boyfriend_

* * *

><p>"Blaine, I'm not <em>perfect,<em>" Kurt pointed out as he walked around Blaine's room.

Instead of being neat and orderly like Kurt, who kept his bucket list updated on his phone, Blaine was more of a type B. No, take that back – more like a type Z. He wrote down his ideas as they came to him – _wherever _they came to him.

The result? An array of various neon-colored post-it notes stuck everywhere. And when he says everywhere, Kurt means _everywhere_:

The headboard, the lamp shade, random picture frames, on various CD covers, bordering the screen of his computer, hidden between his socks in his dresser, stuck on hangers in his closet, protruding from book after book, acting as bookmarkers. Lining the edge of his mirror, covering the face of his alarm clock – like he had a brilliant idea inspired by a dream that he just had to write down before it left him – post-it notes littering the floor and hidden in every drawer, sitting on the desk, and adhered to his keyboard.

Out of order.

Everywhere.

"Besides, I don't believe in Valentine's Day," Kurt sniffed.

Blaine rolled onto his stomach where he was lying on his bed so he could better stare at Kurt. "What do you mean you don't _believe_ in Valentine's Day? It's not Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. It's an actual, established holiday."

"It's an over-commercialized holiday that - "

"Exploits the emotions of the mass population in order to market overpriced flowers, candies, and gifts," Blaine finished for him. They'd been through this before. "I know," he said with a small smile.

"Exactly," Kurt said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But you have to admit, it's romantic," Blaine prompted, a dreamy look in his eyes.

"There's nothing romantic about it. I've been brothers with Finn long enough to see any potential joy surrounding the fourteenth of February sucked right out of it by the means of one Rachel Berry."

"That's just_ one case_ though - "

"It's an excuse for attention and gifts," Kurt insisted. "Neither of which I require. It's for unsubtly dropped hints about what you want to receive and over-the-top dates that people can't actually afford."

"_Our_ Valentine's Day wouldn't be like that."

"I don't want to participate in - "

"But you've never had a _proper_ Valentine's Day before," Blaine interjected, propping himself up on his elbows. "You've never been courted," his voice lowered, "Seduced."

Kurt felt himself blushing. "Blaine, stop it."

"Would it be so bad?" Blaine asked. "Would it be _so_ unbearable to have me do nothing but nice things for you and try to break the world record for the number of 'I love you's' in one day? Would it be the _worst_ thing to receive a gift or go out to dinner?"

Kurt had turned away in fear of his flushed face giving away the fact that Blaine was starting to tempt him. "_No,_" he admitted. "But why should all that be suppressed into one day? It's putting too much weight on those cliché moments – so much that, it skyrockets their value, when really we should be loving each other like that every day."

"I _do_ love you like that every day," Blaine teased. "But it wouldn't be so bad to contribute to the world's love-level on Valentine's Day, would it?"

"I don't want to be a statistic," Kurt murmured. "I mean, last year I had to watch you serenade someone else - "

"We swore to never speak of it again."

" – and I confessed how I felt for you, but nothing happened between us," Kurt went on. "It was just such a draining week and maybe I'm not meant for Valentine's Day, you know?" he mused. "Maybe I'm more of a St. Patrick's Day guy."

"That's just an excuse to poke people," Blaine interjected. "Or is it pinching?"

Kurt waved his comment away. "That's not the point," he told Blaine. "Maybe I don't want to do anything for Valentine's Day, Blaine. Maybe I just want to walk down the hall at school, holding your hand, kiss you just before the bell rings, and spend the evening here – doing nothing out of the ordinary…And just feel lucky that I'm allowed to love you."

"So you're saying I'm not allowed to take you out on a date?" Blaine clarified.

"Breadstix will live without our patronage for one night," Kurt answered with a smile.

"I'm not allowed to do _anything_ for you," Blaine stated.

"Not really, no."

"Strictly on Valentine's Day," Blaine clarified. "On the fourteenth of February I'm not allowed to reduce you to a statistic in any way, shape, or form."

"Correct," Kurt said as he sat down next to Blaine on the mattress. "It's nothing personal, I'm just not a conventional guy."

Blaine rolled over and pulled Kurt down by the collar of his shirt for a kiss. "Trust me, I know," he murmured against Kurt's lips.

They were silent for a few, long minutes as Kurt bent low to drag his lips slowly across Blaine's, marveling at the sweet sensation of this position; Kurt was kind of adjacent to how Blaine was lying, so his mouth was coming down sideways against Blaine's. And it wasn't unwelcome, it was just different. It allowed him to explore Blaine's lips in a new way, almost like kissing upside down.

"What are you thinking?" Kurt asked as he came up for air for a split second. "You've got your 'I'm coming up with a loophole' smirk on."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Blaine said in his totally-not-suspicious-at-all tone.

"_Blaine,_" Kurt warned.

"Shut up and kiss me."

So he did.

* * *

><p><em>February 8th, 2012<em>

Kurt was putting his Economics textbook into his locker when someone came up beside him. With a sigh, he stole one last glance at Blaine's Dalton picture, still hanging proudly on his locker door, before shutting it closed to reveal Mike.

"Hey," Kurt greeted, stuffing his binder into his backpack. "What's up?"

"I have here," Mike procured a gaudy, thick envelope, "A message to deliver to a Mr. Kurt Hummel. Do you know him?"

"You're aspiring to be a mailman?" Kurt guessed.

Mike laughed. "No. I prefer to think of this as a _mission_ – assigned to me by a very important authority."

"There's no return name on this envelope," Kurt observed, looking at the face of the letter. "However am I supposed to know who it's from?"

"It's not that big of a leap to make," Mike said. "With all the clues and, factoring in the fact that I'm the one delivering it to you, it's not exactly a mystery."

"Does a certain ex-Warbler have you doing his dirty work again?" Kurt pressed. "Even from his death bed?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "It's his sick bed."

"His for-the-moment-totally-incapacitated bed, you mean?"

The other boy shrugged. "Sure," he said as he slung his backpack over one shoulder. "He texted me this morning after I went to pick it up and told me that it was really, _really_ important. And that you should open it as soon as possible. I know, because he text me about twenty times."

"All in good time," Kurt said, turning the envelope over in his hands a few times.

Mike just looked down at it. "Well, my part in this mission is over. I can log it in as successful with zero collateral damage. I'll see you later, Kurt."

"Bye," Kurt mumbled as he flipped the envelope over.

Whatever was in this envelope was thick, written on expensive paper. He could tell from the weight of it in his hands. His name was written in calligraphy across the front in rich, dark ink – untraceable to the naked eye; there was no way to tell who'd written it. It was sealed with a shiny gold sticker that had an emblem etched onto it; the very familiar emblem of a "D".

Dalton Academy.

"_Curiouser and curiouser,_" Kurt thought to himself as he carefully placed the message into his backpack.

* * *

><p>"What are you up to?" Kurt asked as soon as he closed Blaine's bedroom door behind him.<p>

He came to visit him every single day until he was called back home to dinner. He would bring Blaine's homework every day, tutor him, make him food, dress his wounds – whatever needed to be done, he'd do it. He didn't mind.

Sure, when he'd said he hadn't wanted to do anything on Valentine's Day, he hadn't been taking into account that one of them would be _debilitated_. But now that that was the case, and even if he'd _wanted_ to do something, that option was cruelly stripped away from him. He felt robbed – robbed of something he hadn't even wanted in the first place.

Now he wouldn't get to walk hand-in-hand down the hall with Blaine at school because he wasn't scheduled to be back at McKinley until February 20th, the week _after._ Now he was alone again until then, his only salvation from the monotony of high school being Blaine's texts.

Turns out the prime source of entertainment for a bed-ridden boy is texting his boyfriend all day and seeing how quickly he can a) distract Kurt from his class or b) make him blush. Apparently Blaine knew his way around dirty words.

But that was beside the point. Blaine's strength was coming back to him and he was healing up nicely, but he wasn't allowed to leave his bed. Yet he was still planning something; still stirring up mischief. The _nerve._

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blaine shrugged as he flipped through the math notes his teacher had sent over. "I haven't left this bed – _I_ haven't done anything."

"You made Mike deliver me a message?" Kurt prompted.

"Huh," Blaine sighed, keeping his innocent façade up. "You never mentioned it when we spoke," he continued in his surreptitious voice, avoiding Kurt's eyes at all costs.

"I haven't opened it yet," Kurt admitted, crossing his legs and giving Blaine his best I'm-on-to-you glare. "I thought it'd be best to do it here where I can get clear answers out of you."

"Are you going to torture me?" Blaine purred.

Kurt just shook his head. He bent over to retrieve his backpack, pulling the envelope out of it and holding it in front of Blaine. "Look familiar?"

"Nope," Blaine answered smoothly.

Kurt flipped the envelope over, peeling the seal off, careful not to break it. He pulled out what looked like a wedding invitation judging by the thick, textured paper. But it wasn't.

"Dalton Academy cordially invites you, Kurt Hummel, and up to five guests to attend the Annual Couples' Masquerade Ball, Saturday, February 11th 2012, in the Dalton Academy Ballroom at Seven O'Clock," Kurt read aloud. "Formal attire is required along with a black or white mask, in honor of a long-stemmed tradition. All are welcome to this timeless feast. We hope you will join us for a night of dining, dancing, and good cheer."

Blaine nodded as if this were news to him – which it obviously wasn't.

"What is this?" Kurt asked, holding up the invitation. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Not at all," Blaine grinned. "It's a very _prestigious_ event, Kurt."

"I'll have you know I attended Dalton Academy this time last year - "

"I'm aware," Blaine said, smiling so wide his eye patch shifted a little.

" – and there was no mention of a masquerade ball at all."

"It's an extremely _exclusive_ event," the other boy informed him.

Kurt pointed the silver font. "It says all are welcome."

"All who are _invited,_" Blaine explained. "They write that to say that all kinds of _couples_ are welcome. So long as you get an invite, you can come with whatever kind of date you choose. Acceptance policy, remember?"

"Is this some kind of secret Dalton society the student body isn't aware of? Are we being initiated?"

"_No,_ it's mostly an organization of the school's alumni and the donors who provide the funding for extra curricular activities and scholarships – stuff like that. They started it a long, long time ago – just like the invitation says, 'A long-stemmed tradition'. It used to be called the Valentine's Day Ball, but Dalton is denominational now, so it's the Couple's Masquerade Ball."

"So everyone who's invited has to have a date?"

"Yes," Blaine said. "Wes told me all about how he took his girlfriend to the ball his Junior year and I've always wanted to go," he admitted. "One of the Warbler's dads is on the Dalton Board of Trustees and he had an in. I asked him to pull some strings, and he got me the invite. I was hoping you'd be my date this year."

Kurt smiled weakly, running his thumbs across the typeface on the card. "Was it Sebastian?" he asked. "Was he the one who pulled some strings for you?"

"Yeah." Blaine reached over and took Kurt's hand in his own. "But he was just doing me a favor. He felt really bad about…you know." He gave Kurt's hand a squeeze. "They _all_ are. I can't tell you how many phone calls and visits I've gotten. They _really_ regret it and…I kind of just want to forgive them because I want my friends back," he admitted softly. "He won't be there or anything – Sebastian, I mean. I asked."

Kurt brought their joined hands up to his lips and kissed Blaine's palm in a silent sign of understanding. There was a pause as he thought about everything Blaine said, turning the possibility of it all over and over in his mind.

"Even if I said yes, will you be up on your feet again in three days' time?" he asked.

"Kurt, I can still _walk_ you know," Blaine teased. "That slushy didn't hit my legs."

"But - "

"I'll be fine. I feel great."

Kurt looked down at the invitation again. "Well…" He thought it over. "If you really want to go, then I would be honored to go with you."

"So you're not mad about the Sebastian thing? Or that I found your loophole for celebrating Valentine's Day?"

"You said it yourself, it's called the Couples' Masquerade Ball now," Kurt recited. "There's nothing holiday about it anymore." Blaine chuckled a little. "But, no, I'm not mad about any of it. I'm kind of excited, to be honest."

"Of course you are," Blaine said. "It gives you a chance to go shopping."

"Well, I may have a game plan," Kurt confessed.

Blaine sat up a little taller and tugged Kurt closer. "So shall I pick you up Saturday evening around five to escort you to the ball?"

Kurt hiked his legs up so that he was sitting next to Blaine against the headboard and he leaned in closer. "No."

"_No?_" Blaine repeated, sounding alarmed.

"As in, 'No, I'll meet you there'," he whispered into Blaine's ear before he began kissing the skin directly beneath it, causing him to squirm. "You'll have to come find me."

Blaine swallowed hard and his breathing picked up pace as Kurt nipped at his earlobe. "I-I will?"

Kurt's hand was cupping Blaine's cheek as he turned his boyfriend to face him, the short distance between their lips practically maddening. "You have to admit," he breathed before closing the gap, "That's sexier."

* * *

><p>"It's killing you, isn't it?" Blaine asked over the phone Friday night. "Not telling me what you're wearing tomorrow?"<p>

Kurt groaned. He always gave Blaine the full recap of the fruits of his shopping trips and together they would evaluate what looked best with what, which occasions to wear which outfit at, which items of clothes they could exchange after a long night of who-knows-what and get away with it. It was becoming a ritual, and Kurt was_ itching_ to spill the beans, but he didn't want to ruin the surprise.

"_Yes,_" he moaned into the receiver. "I'm going to look heart-breakingly handsome. And I'm going to dance with all the nice-looking boys."

"Not if I get to you first," Blaine purred. He loved the challenge.

"Good luck," Kurt teased. "I'll be trying my best to throw you off. And we both know what it's like when I put my mind to something." He could hear Blaine exhale slowly on the other line.

"Maybe I'll go up to every guy I see and press my fingers to the base of their neck, just to see if it's you."

Kurt shuddered just thinking about Blaine's hand there, so he shook it off. "Because that won't be awkward for every male that isn't me."

"How hard could it be?" Blaine gloated. "You'll probably be wearing something that stands out from the crowd and I'll find you in five minutes flat."

"The beauty of a disguise – and the beauty of being a male at a formal event – is that you can blend in perfectly. It's not like a dress; all the men will be wearing essentially the same thing."

"Except for the mask," Blaine pointed out. "That could be where you slip up."

"Only it won't be," Kurt sniffed.

"Who else did you invite, by the way?" Blaine asked. "Maybe I'll see them first and weasel out your whereabouts from them."

"Just for you giving away that strategy, I'm not telling you."

"Drat," Blaine said, pretending to sound defeated.

"I'll know where you are though," Kurt muttered. "You'll be the only guy there looking through one eye-hole in your mask."

"Or will I?"

"You can't simply take off your bandages and eye patch just for the sake of a ball, Blaine."

"Who said it'd be because of the ball?" Blaine argued. "My doctor's allowed me to be eye patch free for a few hours every day until gradually I build up to not needing it at all. I wanted to surprise you."

"So you're healing up quickly?" Kurt asked excitedly. "As in you might come back to school early?"

"Looks like it."

"Blaine, that's wonderful news!" Kurt gushed. "I've missed you so much – you have _no_ idea."

"Likewise," Blaine said with a chuckle. "The point is I will be _extremely_ allusive and aloof at tomorrow night's ball."

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow night," Kurt said softly. "I'll be the one in the mask."

Blaine laughed on the other line. "So will I."

* * *

><p><em>February 11th, 2012<em>

Dalton's ballroom really was a work of art.

It was in the Westerville Hall right smack dab in the center of the grounds, surrounded by everything. It was a tall, round building that was usually kept locked during school hours, opened only for important events such as fundraisers, private events, or prestigious affairs. Rumor had it that the President of the United States had attended a state banquet there some years ago.

Kurt had never been inside of it before, but now was his chance. He held onto the gloved hand of his "date" which was slipped through his arm as they entered the room.

It was lovely. The floors were made of marbled tile leading into a huge circular area where well-dressed guests were already milling about. There was a grand staircase with gold-rimmed railing leading up to a second floor that was just an outline of the first. He could see circular tables dotting the circumference of the second floor - overlooking the dance floor - at which people were already seated.

There were tables on the ground floor as well, half of which were occupied. Opposite the base of the staircase was an orchestra who were already set up and playing soft, quaint music to dine to. Waiters weaved between people, their trays being presented with flukes of sparkling cider and chocolate hors d'oeuvres – cubes of cakes, brownies, truffles, fudge. The theme was black and white and everything matched accordingly.

But, above all, there was a sea of masks. Everyone was wearing one – the ushers, the waiters, the musicians - every single person present. Masks of every kind – full masks, masks that covered only the eyes, masks that concealed one side of the face, masks with long noses, with feathers, with a mix of black and white. Every schematic imaginable. It was impossible to tell one person from the entire crowd.

It was overwhelming as Kurt drank it all in. He only hoped he would find Blaine first.

"Ready to blend?" he asked Rachel.

"Ready," she answered as she took his hand.

* * *

><p>Blaine straightened the lapels of his jacket and adjusted his mask on last time before entering the ballroom.<p>

The festivities were in full swing; people were dancing, eating, chatting - the whole nine yards. There was a thrill of mystery in the air – the beauty of being someone new, the freedom of anonymous.

He began looking around for Kurt instinctively, hoping he'd spot those grey-blue irises in the crowd right away. But he had no such luck. There were no hints for him to pick up on whatsoever.

Was Kurt that dark, brooding man sitting in the corner? Was he the one flirting with the waiter? Or perhaps that man waltzing another man around the dance floor? There was no telling what he was doing to throw Blaine off his scent – oh how he liked to toy with him. Blaine knew Kurt would be where he least expected him to be.

The question was: where?

He pulled out his phone as he walked off to the side, out of the entranceway.

[7:45pm]

_Any hints as to where you are?_

[7:46pm]

**No texting allowed, Blaine – that's cheating. I'm turning off my phone.**

[7:47pm]

_How is that cheating?_

[7:48pm]

_Oh, right. I can look around and see who's on their phone. Got it._

[7:49pm]

_The game is on then._

He pocketed his phone and looked around the room again. There was no one standing out to him. He looked for that precise lean in Kurt's hips, his gait, his perfectly coiffed hair – any signs he could think of. But again he came up empty.

He was going to bravely enter the dance floor when he spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. Blaine walked over to where his friends were, relieved that he'd found someone to talk to.

"Hey, Jeff," he said as he came up to them. "Nick," he greeted the brunette standing adjacent.

"Aw, man, how did you know it was us?" Jeff groaned.

Blaine shrugged. "You're one of the only blonde people here," he reasoned. "And your tie's askew."

"Okay, but how did you know it was Nick? I thought his mask was pretty good."

"Where you go, he goes," Blaine said with a smile. He reached over to snag a glass of sparkling cider. "Cheers."

They all clinked glasses and tossed back the cool liquid.

"Blaine, we just wanted to say again how sorry we are and we never should have - "

"Jeff, if you apologize one more time, I'll be forced to punch you," Blaine joked as he took another sip of his drink. "It's fine."

"So where's Kurt?" Nick asked as he swirled the remaining liquid in his glass around. "I thought wherever you went he went?"

Blaine chuckled to himself. "Touché. I'm actually kind of on a mission to find him," he explained as he gave the room another once over. "But he's playing hard-to-get."

Jeff and Nick exchanged glances. "Any luck finding him?" Nick asked.

"No," Blaine answered, shaking his head. "Have you guys seen him?"

"Maybe," Jeff replied, his tone saturated in mischief. "But even if we had we wouldn't tell you."

"We wouldn't?" Nick repeated with a puzzled expression.

"No, we wouldn't," Jeff said slowly. "That would ruin the fun."

"Right," Nick nodded. "We haven't seen anyone."

"If I were you I'd try the dance floor," Jeff suggested before draining the remainder of his glass. "I always find the best people there."

"I thought you weren't supposed to be helping me," Blaine pointed out.

Jeff shrugged. "It's just a recommendation – not 'help', per say."

"Yeah, but I'd need someone to dance with…"

"Blaine?" a voice said from behind him.

He turned around to see a female clad in a slim-fit black strapless gown with a matching mask to hide her eyes. Her dark hair cascaded loosely over one shoulder and she held out her gloved hand to him.

"Tina?" he guessed. "Are you here with Mike?"

"I'm not supposed to answer questions," she replied with a smile. "I'm just supposed to ask you if you'd care to join me in the next dance."

"Is this Kurt's way of dropping hints?" he asked.

She leaned closer to him so that she could whisper conspiratorially in his ear. "He wants to be found," she said in a low voice.

"Well, all signs point to the dance floor," he said. "May I have this dance, Tina Cohen-Chang?"

"You may," she answered with a curtsey.

He took her hand and led her towards the couples waltzing across the floor. There were men leading men, women holding men, and women holding women. Every few minutes, someone new would cut in, leading to all kinds of combinations. And though everyone was wearing masks to conceal their faces, it was clear that everyone was enjoying themselves, displayed plainly by the smiles on their faces and the constant stream of laughter echoing through the hall.

He placed his hand on Tina's waist and she placed hers on his shoulder, their other hands joined as he they began to move in circles.

"Any more hints?" he asked Tina before spinning her out.

She laughed out loud as he spun her back in. "Only this: be careful who you flirt with."

"Ah, well, I can't make any promises," he teased.

"You have some fancy footwork," she complimented him as the song came to a soft close.

He grinned at her. "My mother used to make me attend ballroom dance classes," he confessed. "Don't tell Kurt."

"I'm sure he'll find out sooner or later," she replied with a smirk.

An older looking man came up to the microphone set up in front of the orchestra. He tapped it a few times to make sure it was and then he cleared his throat.

"Dalton Academy and all of its affiliates are pleased to welcome you all to tonight's festivities. We pride ourselves on education, understanding, acceptance, and the power to inflict change, but most of all, our ability to throw a good party."

All of the guests chuckled, a few yelled, "Hear, hear!"

"This establishment was built upon the firm pillars of tradition and has grown into a contemporary institution to shape the minds of future generations. We like to honor those who came before us with a customary dance set to modern music to symbolize just how far we've come in these hallowed halls and how we wish to continue to incorporate the future into today."

This statement was met by rambunctious cheers and hollers punctuated with good-natured applause. The masked gentleman at the microphone held up his hands to still the applause, which eventually died down.

"To do the honors we have a member of Dalton Academy's award-winning, nationally renowned choir, The Warblers, who has graciously volunteered to serenade us this evening."

More applause as a young man dressed in a tux – eyes hidden by a white mask, of course – came up to the microphone, adjusting it with his gloved hands. His dark hair with just barely a tinge of copper was slicked back – not too much, just enough. His lips were visible beneath the border of his mask and there was a hint of a smile there. He looked confident, comfortable.

"Good evening," he said into the mic, his voice low and seductive. "We'll continue with a traditional dance – minimal contact. If you're unfamiliar with the dance, no worries. Chances are one of your many masked partners will know it. Just follow their lead." He grinned as he looked around the room. "And if all else fails, do what tonight is all about: fake it."

This was met with a chorus of laughter before everyone began to pair off.

Blaine turned from the stage to look at Tina to ask her how she felt about this turn of events, but she was gone. He spun around, trying to see where she had walked off to, but she had disappeared without a trace. When he turned back to face the stage again there was yet another girl standing in front of him, her gloved hand already extended.

He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and closed it. He waited for the girl to say something, observing her black gown, synched at the waist, with a white pattern laid over it – a very elegant look. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, her bangs falling just above her eyes, which were hidden behind a white mask.

"Shall we?" she asked with a smile.

_Rachel,_ Blaine realized. He should've known she'd be next in Kurt's line-up of roguish moves.

"Do I have a choice?" he joked, accepting her hand.

"Not really," she answered.

The young man on stage signaled to the orchestra that he was ready as all the dancers took their positions – two long lines with one partner on one side and the other opposite them. Blaine stood a good five feet away from Rachel, waiting for the song to begin.

The song started off with just the singer's voice, soft and spot-on, accompanied by a few soft chords of the piano.

_A drop in the ocean,  
>A change in the weather,<br>I was praying that you and me might end up together_

The two lines of dancers merged as the song continued to unfold. Blaine placed his hand lightly on Rachel's waist – emulating the person in front of him – as they began to move forward.

_It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,  
>But I'm holding you closer than most,<em>_  
>'Cause you are my heaven<em>

Blaine guided Rachel with his hand as the couples started circling around one another in a synchronized rhythm. She gave him a smile as he extended his arm, twirling her away into the awaiting arms of a tall stranger. He watched as she was led away, sheltered by the man's sure arms.

On the stage, the drums had started in, tapping out a light rhythm to support the continuing piano line. The vocalist grew a little louder, a little more confident as he sang the first verse.

_I don't wanna waste the weekend  
>If you don't love me, pretend<em>

_A few more hours, then it's time to go_

He felt a tug on his right hand that whipped him around – straight into the chest of someone new. A male, to be precise. Clearly this broad-shouldered red-head was experienced in the ways of traditional dancing judging by how he took the lead almost immediately.

His palms were warm as they met Blaine's for the briefest of moments in passing. Then their hands dropped to their sides as they began to walk around one another in a circle. Blaine's eyes dropped down the other boy's torso, traveling upwards over the red cummerbund and his fitted vest, past the silver pin tacked to his lapel and his white mask revealing only his green eyes.

_As my train rolls down the east coast _

_I wonder how you keep warm  
>It's too late to cry,<br>Too broken to move on_

He passed behind Blaine as the dancers separated into four lines. Then Blaine was back-to-back with another person as he faced his handsome partner. They stepped towards each other, closing the distance until they were nearly chest to chest – only an inch of space between them.

"You're good at this," Blaine complimented his lips - which were at eye-level - under his breath.

He received a confident smirk in return. "You're not so bad yourself," the stranger muttered, his right shoulder brushing Blaine's as they walked around another counterclockwise this time.

The song was reaching the first bridge and the string players had taken up their instruments, making their soft entrance to swell into the next segment.

_And still I can't let you be  
>Most nights I hardly sleep<br>Don't take what you don't need from me_

Blaine shivered slightly as he felt his partner's breath on the nape of his neck as they passed. He turned his head to look him in the eyes at the last possible second, but he'd already been replaced by a girl in a medium-length, layered black dress.

All of the new couples spun into one another's holds, pausing for a second, the girl's back to Blaine's chest. He looked side to side, watching what the other pairs were doing before moving his right hand to mirror the back of hers, interlacing her gloved fingers with his own. They moved forward, staying in a straight line with the others before expanding again.

_It's just a drop in the ocean  
>A change in the weather<br>I was praying that you and me might end up together_

Everyone was spread out evenly on the dance floor as they resumed more modern stances – one partner's hand on the waist, the other's on the shoulder with their remaining hands clasped modestly above the waists. Blaine emulated the smile spreading upon his partner's face as they began to waltz gracefully across the dance floor.

_It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
>But I'm holding you closer than most,<br>'Cause you are my heaven  
><em>

The chorus was nice and structured, supplying an easy pattern to follow. It was easily split up into threes as Blaine guided the girl in his arms around the floor, weaving in and out of other couples as they circulated around the space.

He admired the way the skirt of her dress trailed slightly behind their movements and the way she held her chin high with poise. He was having quite the luck with dance partners, but he was also trying to heed Tina's advice about being careful who he exchanged words with.

But he was Blaine Anderson for crying out loud, and he was raised with manners, if anything. And how could he _not_ compliment her? Someone with such a gorgeous smile and such lithe feet should be complimented surely. Besides, she had her left hand resting on his waist, so they were past the whole just-pretending-the-other-doesn't-exist phase.

The orchestra grew quiet again, backing off significantly to give way to the soloist and his accompanying piano and drum set. There was a guitarist breaking through as well, providing backbone to the second verse as the soloist crooned into the mic:

_Misplaced trust and old friends  
>Never counting regrets<br>By the grace of God, I do not rest at all_

He lifted her off the floor, mimicking the other couples, spinning her around in a quick succession of turns. As he set her down on the floor with a grin he couldn't suppress, her eyes shone behind her mask. They bowed low to one another, Blaine with one hand over his chest and the other behind his back.

"You look very nice," Blaine said softly as they turned to stand shoulder to shoulder.

"Thanks," she responded as they switched directions. "But I'm not on your team."

Blaine chuckled lightly as their palms came together for a couple of beats. "And I'm not on yours," he answered with a smirk.

"Then I feel no guilt passing you onto the next man," she said with a wink. Her exposed back brushed against his jacket as she was spun away into the arms of another girl.

The violins swelled again leading up to the chorus. It was quite a sight to see all the skirts swishing across the floor, couples perfectly reflected in the shining tile, the light of the chandelier casting a golden glow across them all.

_And still I can't let you be  
>Most nights I hardly sleep<br>Don't take what you don't need from me_

The few seconds he was partner-free, Blaine looked around the dance floor and spotted the red-headed boy he'd first danced with staring at him over the head of another man. He felt himself turning as red as said man's hair, who he realized was giving him obvious bedroom eyes. Maybe Tina was right and he should just keep his mouth shut and his eyes down. Who said he couldn't just dance and keep to himself? The mask gave him the power to do just that, so he'd have to embrace it. He wasn't bubbly, talkative Blaine Anderson - he could be silent, sexy, broody Blaine Anderson if it would keep him out of trouble, right?

_It's just a drop in the ocean,  
>A change in the weather<br>I was praying that you and me might end up together_

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he was whirled around to face somebody new: a tall man in a plain black mask. Before he could observe anything else about this new stranger, Blaine forced himself to stare at the man's shoes. Shoes were safe, weren't they?

They bowed to one another briefly before there was a hand in his field of vision – the line of sight he was keeping strictly on those shoes – palm facing him. Blaine used his peripheral vision to see the other couples palm-to-palm, at least that's what it looked like at a glance. Really they weren't touching, their hands were just hovering in close approximation to one another.

Blaine kept his eyes trained on that hand, careful to not look up, and did as the other dancers did. He placed his right hand as the mirror to his partner's, less than an inch of space between them.

_It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
>But I'm holding you closer than most,<br>'Cause you are my… _

The response was instant as they began to circle one another – there was the sensation of fire slowly blossoming from the tips of Blaine's fingers down the palm of his hand and up the underside of his arms. It was the kind of good that hurt so badly; he wanted nothing more than to close that last inch of space between their hands; it was causing his chest to ache with an unnameable desire. He could feel the warmth emanating from his partner's palm, and, though they weren't, it felt like they were touching. Like it was just the two of them in an empty room, laying hands on one another.

It was like a phantom touch – he could feel the weight and the pressure of the other person's hand, but their fingers weren't meeting. Blaine's muscles were tense as he fought the instant urge to interlace his fingers with his partner and soothe this fire scorching through the pit of his stomach. He needed to know what this touch felt like.

He couldn't explain it – this tug of emotion and sudden attraction for a stranger – but it felt like closing that space was the single most important thing in the world. He moved his hand to cup the back of his partner's as they continued moving. He let out the breath he'd been holding in a long, slow exhale as he allowed his fingers to trail up the back of the other boy's fingers. It wasn't a conscious decision; it was a feeling – an instinct.

It was a deep-rooted impulse to touch, to drag his fingers against the skin of his partner's hands while they were allowed to press together. As he did so, he looked up at last to meet the eyes of his partner. But they were hidden by a slightly-too-big mask that sent only shadows sprawling across the irises, leaving just dark indents and one huge question.

"Kurt?" Blaine breathed as they switched hands.

The corner of his partner's lips twitched up in the beginnings of a smile. He pressed the length of his hand against Blaine's again, spreading that familiar flame one more. Blaine was a little disturbed by how much one simple touch was affecting him, but it wasn't unwelcome. There was a little more than searing as his partner put their hand on his waist – beneath his coat – and the other one resting on his shoulder as they resumed their timely waltz.

Blaine took a deep breath and pressed a finger to the base of his partner's neck, that pale column of his throat, and applied just the barest hint of pressure. Judging by the way his partner's lips parted and how his tongue poked out to wet said lips, he'd found his target.

He tugged Kurt forward by his tie, bending his head low so he could whisper directly into Kurt's ear.

"Looks like I found you," he whispered, daring to nip Kurt's earlobe as he drew back.

"I found _you,_" Kurt insisted under his breath.

_Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore  
>Heaven doesn't seem far away<em>

_Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore  
>Heaven doesn't seem far away<em>

"Now, darling, let's not argue about it," Blaine teased, unable to hide his smile. "And may I just say, you're the best partner I've had all night."

"Why because I make you look good with my two left feet?" Kurt quipped.

"No," Blaine answered. "Because you're _mine,_" he said in a lower face.

Oh how he enjoyed watching Kurt's cheeks flush red._  
><em>

"How did you know it was me?" Blaine in turned Kurt so they could navigate the floor smoothly.

"Who else would it be with that helmet of gel," Kurt joked. "Not a difficult deduction to make."

"Mmm, so you've been keeping tabs on me all night?" Blaine purred. "Just watching me from afar?" He hummed to himself for a beat. "That's kind of _endearing_."

"And you've just been flirting with anyone who has two legs," Kurt pointed out, letting his hand wander a little lower.

_A drop in the ocean  
>A change in the weather<br>I was praying that you and me might end up together  
><em>

Blaine replaced Kurt's hand at a suitable level with a chuckle. "Jealous?"

"A little," Kurt admitted with a pout. "I always want you all to myself – you know that."

"I like this look on you."

"What look? The whole masked crusader thing?"

"_Jealous,_" Blaine repeated with relish. "Possessive."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Kurt sniffed.

He pushed Blaine outwards, allowing him to duck under his arm in a spin. Blaine was the one who tugged Kurt's hand, pulling _him_ back instead until Kurt's back was pressed flush against his chest.

"Minimal touching, Anderson," Kurt chastised.

"I'll tell you where you can put your hands," Blaine said with a grin. Kurt shivered in his arms. "…Later."

"You're dreadful," Kurt informed him. "Do behave."

"On the contrary, I'm quite contrite regarding my fiendish ways."

"Are we going to keep talking like this?" Kurt asked when he was facing Blaine again.

"It's required, wouldn't you agree?"

"Mmm, quite."

_It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
>But I'm holding you closer than most,<br>'Cause you are my heaven_

The song was drawing to a close, the couples already breaking apart and applauding the soloist and the orchestra, some lifting flukes of champagne in an age-old sign of respect.

The soloist sang the final line softly:

_You are my heaven_

"Verily, forsooth," Blaine whispered, still holding on to Kurt's waist as the applause grew. "Egads. I beseech you."

"Stop it," Kurt giggled. "Shut up and kiss me."

So he did.

* * *

><p><em>February 14th, 2012<em>

Kurt opened his locker bright and early Tuesday morning, sighing to himself because Blaine still wasn't in school even though his doctor claimed he'd get a reprive from his sick bed.

So, yet again, he was stuck witnessing other couples walk hand-in-hand down the hallway - which was decked out in red, pink, and paper mache hearts.. He had to see Finn kiss Rachel for the ten thousandth time as she carried around a big red gift back and a bunch of balloons that constantly hit other people in the face. She liked attention like that, and good for her that she had a guy willing to entertain her because, in Finn's opinion, the sun rose and set with Rachel Berry. But still, beneath the guilt he felt for scowling at his best friend, he did feel that underlying annoyance.

He didn't want gifts or grand gestures of love. He just wanted his boyfriend in the same vicinity as him on the fourteenth of February for crying out loud. He took a deep breath as he spun the lock, entering his combination: Seven (the age he never wanted to be again), 18 (the age he would turn this year), and 27 (the ideal age in his humble opinion). He remembered the lovely evening he and Blaine had shared over the weekend, centering himself again.

He remembered how they had kissed goodnight for longer than necessary and how Blaine had whispered that he loved Kurt over and over again. They had agreed that the weekend before Valentine's Day would always be _their thing._ That way they'd never have to deal with beating the crowds or living up to unrealistic expectations. It would just be them doing what they do best - being together.

Kurt wrenched the lock upwards, tugging the door open and an envelope drifted to the floor.

He hummed to himself in wonder as he bent down to pick up the envelope, corners stained with marker. The only other person who knew his locker combo was...

_Happy Valentine's Day,_ the home-made card read. There was a small sketch of two puppies, joined at the nose, sitting on a red cushion. There were action lines around their muzzles and a little voice bubble that read, "Smack!" Kurt chuckled at the memory as he flipped open the card.

_Clearly it's NOT just puppy love_, declared the card. _I love you, now and always. Love, Blaine. _Then below, _P.S. I'll see you tonight._

_"Tonight?"_Kurt thought to himself, but his curiousness was interrupted by the vibration of his cell phone in his pocket.

[7:23 am]

_I love you_

Kurt was typing back a response with a grin on his face when he was interrupted by another text that popped up on the screen.

[7:24]

_One down, one thousand and twenty four to go._

[7:25am]

**You -actually- looked up how many times you would have to say "I love you" to break the world record?**

[7:45am]

**And you're up to two, by the way. I got your card!**

[7:26am]

_Actually, I did look it up, yes. But no such record exists, unfortunately._

Kurt smiled as he text back.

[7:27am]

**Then where did the number 1024 come from?**

[7:28am]

_Well, I had to set a goal for myself._

[7:28am]

_So I started small._

[7:29am]

_I love you, Kurt._

Kurt's response was immediate and without a doubt. He grinned as he hit send and then slid the card neatly into his backpack.

[7:30am]

**I love you, too.**

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date (namely Valentine's Day)! I know, I know. Things have just been so hellish lately, but I came up with this idea and I've been working on it for a while, trust me. Sometimes I ask myself why I'm allowed to write haha. But I'm pleased with this segment :D_

_So I've been watching a shit-ton of The Vampire Diaries, and if you watch that [amazing] show, you know that they're always having Founder's Day Balls and galas, etc etc. Well, in season two they had a masquerade ball, which I was in love with because I think that's such an attractive idea - so much romance and potential. And I knew I wanted to create a scenario like that for Kurt and Blaine as well. I'm very grateful to all of you because without your support I know I wouldn't be able to write things like this, so thank you for trusting me! I really hope you liked it!_

_As for the song, if you haven't heard it, you** need** to! It really pulls the entire scene together for me and I just wish all of you could be inside of my head to see it all with the sweeping would-be camera angles and all of that. But by the time I post this chapter, it will be up in my music tag on tumblr here:_

**_[/] post [/] 18822076264_**

_Just take out the brackets, and tack it on to the end of my tumblr url (sherlockhums atm), and whoopdeedoo! Alright, after this we're back to our regularly scheduled bucket list items - depends on what I want to do *rubs hands together evilly* Mwahahaha. We'll see! 'Til next time (:_

**_Reviews would mean so much to me!_**


	8. Wars of the Sibling and Paint Variety

"_Please?_" Kurt pouted. "I promise it'll be amazing. It'll be so, _so_ much fun and really wonderful and I promise you won't regret it."

Blaine started twiddling his fingers nervously. "I don't know…"

"I'll never ask you for anything ever again in my entire life," Kurt swore.

Shaking his head, Blaine pulled Kurt up by the shirt from where he'd been resting on Blaine's chest for a kiss. Kurt squirmed until he could reach Blaine and then sighed into the kiss, sounding very content.

"_Kurt_," Blaine informed his boyfriend's lips, "You're a _terrible_ liar."

Kurt groaned and buried his face in Blaine's neck. "I know," he whined, giggling as Blaine tickled the side of his stomach.

"It's not that I don't _want_ to," Blaine clarified. He was rubbing circles into Kurt's skin where his shirt had ridden up. "I just don't think that it's something that's exactly…encouraged."

"Scrnnns mmmfh I harfhhh nemms," Kurt mumbled half into Blaine's throat and half into his pillow.

Blaine turned over so that he was mirroring the way Kurt was pressed into the pillow. "You wanna run that by me again?" he teased.

"I said, 'Screw society. I have needs.'" Kurt rested his cheek against Blaine's shoulders, tapping his fingers one by one on Blaine's lower lip almost absentmindedly. "Please?" he begged once more.

Blaine groaned and covered his face with his hands. "You are making this _really_ hard for me."

"Good, that means you're close to cracking," Kurt said eagerly, beginning to bounce up and down with excitement. "If I added a cherry on top of this please while simultaneously making it pretty, would you go?" He batted his eyelashes.

God, he knew what those stupid, long eyelashes could do to Blaine.

"No?" Damn, he'd meant for it to come out more determined, but instead it came out as a question.

"What can I do to convince you?" Kurt said, raising an eyebrow. He straddled Blaine in a flash, pressing his hips down onto Blaine's very unsubtly. "Does this help?"

"I still say no," Blaine managed to choke out just before Kurt closed the gap between them.

"Mmm, do you?" Kurt doubted as he kissed Blaine softly.

He could feel Kurt's fingers curling against his shirt, catching the fabric between his knuckles. Then there were his toes strategically placed above the heel of Blaine's foot, pressing into the sensitive stretch between heel and calf. Blaine was carefully cataloguing into his memory the way Kurt was pressed against him, the perfect distribution of his weight.

But above all, he paid special attention to Kurt's lips, which were currently encompassing his own. To this day it _still_ amazed him that Kurt wasn't tired of kissing him. Honestly, he was sure they'd kissed about a million times by now, give or take a few. It was difficult to imagine that there had been a time when Blaine could count the number of kisses they'd shared on his hands. There had been a time when he walked away thinking, "_That was our fifth kiss_," and so on and so forth.

Now this kiss didn't have a number. It was just another kiss, one in a montage of many; and yet not. This kiss was still wholly its own; a stand-out amidst others. How could he possibly compare this kiss to another kiss when right this second, Kurt's tongue was running along the curve of his lower lip? When he pulled back _just so _when things were getting heated only to press even closer when he returned his lips to Blaine's – a total turn on? How could he _not_ be fully involved in _this_ moment when Kurt's hands were slipping beneath his shirt and tracing his back and his sides, careful to dip along the segments he knew were the most susceptible to his touch?

Oh there was no doubt that Kurt Hummel was the master of the kiss, administering it carefully and slowly, to Blaine's liking. Blaine made sure to hum his appreciation as he felt Kurt's hand coming to rest on his neck, his fingers trailing across the pressure points with a feather-light touch. He opened his mouth a little wider, parting his lips and his teeth to let Kurt's tongue slide against his, suddenly a little more urgent than before.

Then it was like they were having a whole _new _conversation. What was the question Blaine had been trying to answer? He'd already forgotten because of how Kurt was wrapped around him. Well, who cares, he liked this conversation much better; the only exchange being the light smack of their parting lips, the only answers being a hand here, a thrust of the hips there, a desperate grab accompanied by a giggle with just a hint of lust. The discourse pertained of their sharp intakes of breath, switching off from one person to the next as they retaliated with deeper kisses and calculated tongue placement.

"Hmm?" Kurt asked as he pulled away just enough to pull Blaine out of the moment.

Blaine couldn't remember what they'd been discussing before and, damn, it was hard to concentrate and try to remember when Kurt's lips were _right there_. And they looked so soft, and kissable, a little red from where Blaine's teeth had unconsciously come into play, but that was fixed easily enough… Oh, right, the question.

"No?" Blaine asked. "I mean yes, I still say…no?"

His last "_no_" came out a little breathy and definitely an octave higher as Kurt lowered his head and started kissing Blaine's neck very…erm, _suggestively_.

Blaine tried to keep his face blank and his body still, honestly he did. But when Kurt started nibbling on the column of his throat, he lost it. He bit down on his lip and fought against it, but he couldn't control his fingers threading into Kurt's hair, holding him closer as he licked up and up and up, along his jawline and forging a path to his ear. Nor could he control the way he flexed his feet or pressed his hips closer to Kurt's. His breathing was starting to get borderline shameful on the loudness scale which made forming words, much less protests, difficult to do.

"N - " he began as Kurt switched sides and, oh God, that felt _amazing_. His eyelids closed as he hooked a leg around Kurt's hip as Kurt simultaneously started sucking on his earlobe, humming low in his throat as he did so. "Y-Yes…"

"What was that?" Kurt asked triumphantly. "Was that a _yes_?"

"N-No," Blaine said, his eyes flying open as he regained his concentration. He put a good five inches between himself and Kurt's mouth – a wide enough berth to allow some sense to come to him. "I mean…It _was_ a yes, but not for the reasons you…thought it was a yes."

Yes, clearly his deft argumentation abilities were coming back to him now.

"No, you said yes," Kurt insisted, a huge grin on his face. "You said yes to my proposal."

"Kurt, I…" Blaine began. He rubbed his neck where Kurt had been kissing him, hoping some circulation would make the lingering tingling sensation go away. "I don't even know what we were talking about," he confessed.

That just made Kurt smile even wider. "That was the point," he said.

"Well, refresh my memory."

"Gladly," Kurt purred, leaning down to resume his dirty work.

Blaine could hardly protest because Kurt had him pinned down. He had slipped his fingers inbetween Blaine's and was flat out straddling him. No escape – not this time.

Kurt used his teeth to unbutton the topmost button of Blaine's polo, exposing a bit more skin which he immediately covered with his lips. When Kurt began to speak between kisses, Blaine could feel his lips blossoming across his chest with every word, his breath warming the skin with every delectable syllable.

"I was asking you," he said, "To agree to join _me_ - " Teeth sinking into skin, _oh_. "Well, the rest of the glee clubbers as well, but _mostly_ me." Licking his Adam's apple. "_Only_ me - " He let his breath trail across Blaine's sensitive skin. "_Just_ me, in fact – for Senior Ditch Day. And I promise – no, I swear on all that is holy. And by that I mean my entire closet – that it'll be the most fun you've ever had…" He began sucking Blaine's neck lightly, causing him to shudder. "Save what happens in this bed," he clarified.

Blaine had managed to slip his hands out of Kurt's, but the only thing he could do at this point was clutch Kurt to him and hope his fingernails would leave tiny, angry little half-moon shapes in Kurt's back to let him know how much this affected him. Well, for lack of a better word.

"Kurt," he managed to gasp. "I can't…c-can't think when you're doing…that."

"Mmmm," Kurt murmured, moving to brush his lips against Blaine's. "That's the idea."

"I still say no," Blaine blurted out. "You should…go ahead without me…" Kurt's hands were travelling to more dangerous territory now, blatantly ignoring him. "I shouldn't skip school with Finals a month away anyways."

"Always responsible," Kurt mocked. "I'm going to make you one final offer," he said with a smirk.

"Fine," Blaine accepted. "What is your final offer?"

Kurt was lifting up Blaine's shirt and pressing small, wet kisses across the lower stretch of his stomach. His hands practically yanked open the snap of Blaine's jeans, almost ripping the button off and then he was shoving any and all fabric out of his way.

"This," he said as he lowered his head.

Then Blaine didn't do much talking after that.

* * *

><p>"I said <em>no<em>," Blaine snapped.

Kurt's eyebrows shot way up. "Whoa, sorry for asking you to do something _fun_ with me," he apologized sarcastically. "I know it's been a rough week for you but you don't have to get all snippety with me. I was just trying to make you feel better."

Blaine sighed and ran his hands through his hair, dragging his fingers forward and unhinging his perfectly smoothed hair until it was as ruffled and insane as he must've been feeling. He let out what can only be described as a low growl of frustration. Honestly, he growled – like an _animal_.

"I'm sorry," he said softly from where he sat on the couch. "That was rude and I didn't mean it. I've just been so stressed what with Coop here and all that. Like suddenly my parents want to talk and have family dinners and bonding time, but it's all about Cooper and what he's been doing, which other commercial actors has he met. Has he dated the T-mobile girl yet? Does he have an in with the All-State guy? It's such _bullshit_," he complained. "It's been…tough, to say the least. And you're right – I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

Kurt gave him a sad smile and a tiny nod. "I know it probably sucks to have the successful actor that is Cooper Anderson living under your roof again for a week. And then you can't even escape him at school because he's always _there_," he went on to say as if just realizing it. "Look, I get it. Which is why I'm saying ditch McKinley High, ditch Airhead Anderson, and come with us to Six Flags tomorrow."

"I can't," Blaine told him.

"You weren't so sure after I gave you my final offer last week," Kurt said with a smirk.

"What was said and done then cannot be held in any way against me," Blaine sniffed.

Kurt continued smirking from where he was perched on the Anderson's marble island in their kitchen, adjacent to the living room. "I could convince you again if you'd like."

He got a rush of immense satisfaction to see the blush creep across Blaine's face until he was forced to bury it in his hands.

"Keep your mouth away from me, Hummel," Blaine commanded from behind his fingers. "And Coop's going to be home any minute now. We wouldn't want him to have material to blackmail me with on top of everything, would we?"

Kurt just crossed his legs and shrugged. "He could join in."

"_Kurt_."

"Just thinking out loud," Kurt said nonchalantly. "Don't mind me."

"I thought _I_ was your favorite Anderson," Blaine pouted from the couch.

"No, you are," Kurt told him. "It's just that the two of you have amazing…_genes_." He giggled to himself at the possible pun.

Blaine checked his watch. "I'm calling it. 3:36pm – Kurt Hummel, fallen victim to the ever-popular Cooper Anderson."

"Do I detect a little _jealousy?_" Kurt asked.

"Oh you detect a lot of jealousy," Blaine grumbled. "Stupid, perfect brother…" His choice of words that followed were less than gentlemanly.

"So again I say," Kurt began as he slunk up behind the couch. He let his fingers travel down Blaine's body, whispering directly in his ear, "_Ditch_."

"I really can't," Blaine groaned. Well, he started groaning, but it kind of transitioned into a hum of approval as Kurt's hands travelled, well, south of the equator and as he started nibbling on Blaine's ear. "Kurt, I can't – even if I wanted to."

"Mmmm why not?" Kurt asked, letting his hands roam as he leaned over the back of the couch.

"Because Coop wants to take me shopping after school tomorrow," Blaine explained. He sure as heck didn't seem too thrilled about the idea, but there it was. "He keeps asking me if I have regular access to your closet - "

"In my defense, if I dressed you, you would be wearing much more sophisticated clothes," Kurt interjected.

" – and then after that there's this dumb dinner at my grandparents' house. And I mean, like everyone is going to be there. Aunts, uncles, cousins – the whole nine yards. Everyone who's missed out on the amazing wit of Cooper Anderson for the past few years." He crossed his arms, his muscles tensing abruptly under Kurt's touch. "Suddenly everyone wants to get together and act like a family so they can get a glance into the fabulous industry that is Hollywood."

Kurt scrunched up his face thoughtfully for a moment then returned to kissing Blaine's neck. He brought his hands to Blaine's shoulders and started massaging them gently, feeling every tense nerve beneath his fingertips. He felt Blaine starting to relax, even if it was marginally.

"So don't go," he said. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"No, I have to," Blaine said, shifting out of Kurt's reach. "I can't just bail on a family event – how will that make me look?"

"Like someone who's got better things to do than to worship at Cooper's feet and listen to stories he's probably told you ten times over since he's been home."

"Yeah, but - "

"No buts," Kurt said decidedly. "Unless it's your butt and it's bare and on this couch within the next two minutes."

Blaine stuck out his lower lip, but Kurt could tell even from behind that he was struggling to keep his face looking pouty. But he broke and giggled. "So demanding," he observed.

"I just know what I want," Kurt sniffed.

Blaine turned around to face him better. "And what is that?" he asked, looking pointedly at Kurt's lips.

"I want you to shut up and tell me you're going to tag along with me tomorrow," Kurt said, leaning further over the back of the couch.

"I'll make you a deal," Blaine compromised. "I'll do one of those things."

"Please be the latter, please be the latter," Kurt teased, crossing his fingers and squeezing his eyes shut for good measure.

"Nope," Blaine said with a smile.

He hooked his arm around Kurt's neck and pulled him down for a nice, long kiss. Kurt stumbled forward, but he caught himself on the soft cushions adorning the sofa. Blaine's arm was delicious and pulling him closer, his fingers teasing the edge of Kurt's hairline where it met his skin; dancing along the area between flesh and mane.

Kurt let his teeth find Blaine's lower lip, taking it into his mouth as his fingers hastily undid the pesky bowtie covering Blaine's neck. He knew how far a well-calculated touch could go, and damn he was starting to lose any and all possible strategic movements. He was teetering on that fuzzy borderline between consciousness and just flat out feeling.

There were times when he was conscious of what he was doing – of what was being done to him. He'd grab Blaine in a way he knew was a turn on, or he'd be brave enough to try something new. Sometimes all he could think about was being in control and what he would do next. But it was not without feeling. Blaine had this way of getting under his skin with every touch, every single breath.

So of course he was always feeling Blaine – beneath him, next to him, encompassing him. But there was a point – and it always came – when his mind was just wiped clean. When it was all he could do to just _feel_ and let things happen; to just hang on as he rode the waves that were just…_Blaine_. It was that moment when he let his instincts completely take over.

He'd clutch Blaine a little bit closer, kiss him a little deeper; he'd feel something pass between them – something he couldn't put a name to, but he was cognizant of it. Like when he connected in this way with Blaine – without words or questions or even consciousness – he was touching a secret part of him; a part that he'd been the only one privileged enough to find. That maybe no one else but him would ever discover again. It was in that moment that he felt like he belonged to Blaine; every single, solitary inch of him. He was Blaine's and Blaine was his. Completely, undoubtedly, and simply. They were each other's.

Now was one of those moments. He could feel himself practically turning into mush in Blaine's arms. Turning liquid beneath his fingertips; the phantom touches that would burn all day long, then long into the night. He broke away to take deep breaths of air as Blaine honed in on his upper lip, sucking and nipping at it, even as Kurt tried to breathe.

Kurt grinned as he pulled away an inch - just an inch - causing Blaine's mouth to close around thin air. Blaine laughed and grabbed Kurt's collar, trying to compensate for the loss. They teased each other for a while – pulling out of reach at just the last second, wrestling around trying to gain the upper hand – until it was too much for the both of them and they just collided in a frenzy to touch again; to feel one another again.

Maybe that's why Kurt liked pulling that move; because when their lips met again, it was with renewed enthusiasm and the delicious taste of absolute desperation. As if those few seconds they were apart sent Blaine reeling into this abstract state of need and all he wanted was Kurt; like a thirsty man finding water in a desert. A necessity – a staple for survival.

And may Kurt just say: it felt nice to be _needed_.

Things were started to get heated. Heated as in fingers fumbling for buttons and loud noises and groans emitting from constantly moving lips. Fingers leaving red imprints, all sense of self-respect and preservation just gone.

They didn't even hear the door slam.

Then it was too late and someone was clearing their throat from the doorway of the hallway leading from the foyer to the living room.

Kurt didn't gasp, he didn't jump, he just froze. He stopped what he was sure looked like he was defiling Blaine and just took a step back from the couch. He made no move to smooth his clothes, creased with telltale wrinkles, or fix his hair – which he could feel was sticking out at odd angles. All he could do was at least _try_ to look ashamed of himself.

Blaine, on the other hand, nearly fell off the couch. He looked guilty enough for the both of them, scrambling to right himself and cover up his neck where Kurt had probably left a few marks. But, come on, it wasn't his fault that Blaine's neck tasted so _good._ Okay, definitely _not_ a good thing to think of when another Anderson was in the room.

Cooper nodded to himself, looking as if he were fighting back laughter. He was wearing what appeared to be his perpetually present leather jacket paired with the world's most smug grin with a side of pompous confidence.

"_So_," he said, breaking the awkward silence. "When you say studying, baby brother, you mean…_studying_."

Blaine was rubbing his own neck. "I don't…really know what you're talking about, Coop. We weren't doing anything." Kurt knew Cooper couldn't be blind to the way Blaine's bowtie was precariously dangling from the end of his collar.

Cooper scoffed. "Okay, if I hadn't come in, you'd be consummating on the couch right now." He tilted his head to the side and shook his head at Blaine. "And you know how much Mom and Dad paid for that couch. It'd be a shame to ruin it with your…well, you know, Andershrimp."

"Please stop – _stop_ calling me that," Blaine muttered.

If Cooper heard him, he ignored him. Maybe he was a good actor after all.

"Kurt, that was a really interesting thing you were doing with your hands - "

"Okay," Blaine interrupted loudly, clapping his hands together. "That's enough of that."

"What?" Cooper asked, his eyes wide with practiced innocence. "You said you were doing nothing, so if it was nothing then surely we can discuss it. Right, Kurt?"

"Umm…I - "

"Enough, Coop," Blaine said, standing up. His bowtie fell to the ground. All three pairs of eyes followed it's awkward descent. "We were kissing, okay?"

This amused the eldest Anderson to no end. He actually had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"There. Are you happy, you big five-year old? I said it."

"So you guys are really like…a thing," Cooper confirmed, gesturing between the two of them. "Like a smoochy thing."

"We're serious," Blaine replied stiffly. "If that's what you mean."

"Ugh, serious," Cooper groaned as he moved from the doorway into the kitchen. "I hate that word – it's no fun."

He grabbed an apple off a platter sitting on the table. He took a bite out of it and observed them as he chewed. Kurt could tell some wheels were turning in his perfect head.

"It just came to me," Coop announced, setting down his apple. "You should invite Kurt along tomorrow night, Blainey."

"Oh, I don't want to impose - " Kurt began just as Blaine said, "Kurt's going to be sick tomorrow."

Kurt glanced over at Blaine as if to say _what the hell kind of lie was that_. He understood Blaine was trying to cover for Kurt's absence because of Senior Ditch Day and all that, but honestly. That wasn't going to fool anyone.

"Huh," Cooper said, raising his eyebrows. "Do you often schedule your illnesses ahead of time, Kurt?" he asked, taking another deliberate bite of his apple."

"Oh, I must be coming down with something," Kurt fibbed. He coughed for authenticity, but it sounded flimsy even to his own ears.

"Here's some advice," Cooper said, pointing his hand that held the apple in Kurt's direction. "Don't take up acting, kid. You're terrible."

"_Cooper_," Blaine hissed. "Way to be an asshole."

"Hush, Anderdwarf." Blaine swore under his breath. "We all know the only thing Kurt's got is Anderson Fever. And apparently it's contagious."

"What?" Blaine narrowed his eyes and spluttered, confounded. "Coop, that would imply that I'm interested in myself - "

"Shh, just let it happen," Cooper told him, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"He always does this when he thinks he'd made a good come back," Blaine explained.

"I require a moment of silence for your dignity," Cooper demanded. He lolled his head to both sides and flexed his fingers. His knuckles cracked, then he did what Kurt could only describe as spirit fingers. "Moving on." He turned to Kurt again. "If you've made a miraculous recovery around six thirty tomorrow evening, you should come meet the Anderson Clan."

"Umm…I don't think - "

"Blaine doesn't mind – do you, Munchkin?" Cooper crossed over to the living room and grabbed his brother by the shoulders, giving him a shake. "Come on, Half Pint. Kurt's an important part of your life. Don't you want to introduce him to the fam?"

"Of course I do - "

"Good, it's settled then," he decided. "Kurt?"

Kurt was set to decline again – honestly he was. His mouth hung open and his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth, starting to formulate the "n" in "no". He looked to Blaine, who wasn't shaking his head, wasn't staring at him with wide eyes, wasn't giving him and nonverbal sign that he shouldn't say yes. He was just waiting for Kurt's answer the same way Cooper was: expectantly.

He had to admit that this was a big step, being introduced to the family. Of course there'd been the formalities of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson and then Cooper when he'd shown up in the halls of McKinley (and hadn't seemed to leave since) Monday afternoon. But this wasn't just Blaine's immediate family, it was his extended family. The people he gathered with on birthdays and holidays, who always wanted to know about every aspect of his life.

The ones who'd undoubtedly pinched his cheeks and fussed over his clothes when he was a kid. Who retold stories about all his embarrassing moments and probably asked him year after year, "Do you have a special someone?" until he most likely wanted to punch something. These were the people who wanted to know Blaine's interests, who no doubt pitted their own children against him and probably came up short to the Lead Warbler, top of his class, dapper specimen he'd grown up to be. There were secrets in those relatives and now he would have the chance to meet them.

And it was like Cooper had said, right? He and Blaine considered themselves a forever kind of deal, so he should be introduced, shouldn't he? He could put on that old Hummel charm and play the part of the perfect boyfriend. Hell, it'd probably reassure them at the very least that Blaine wasn't an asexual who was going to grow old and become a creepy bird man. He could swing coming home from Six Flags a little early.

"Why not?" he agreed with a shrug. "I'll be there."

"_That's_ the spirit, eh, Teeny Bopper?" he asked Blaine, slapping his back so hard he had to hold onto the arm of the couch for support.

"Stop calling me names," Blaine pleaded.

"Nonsense. They're _titles_."

Blaine just bit his lip and hung his head, saying nothing for a moment. Then he seemed to remember Kurt and what he'd just agreed to.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Blaine assured him with a small smile. "I won't get mad at you."

"Oh, I'm sure you've delivered that line countless times, Tyke, in many a…_heated_ situation, hmm?"

"Can you ever just let anything go?" Blaine grumbled.

"I might forget all about this little sofa run-in," Cooper said, straightening a stray pillow thoughtfully. Then he moved Blaine's open collar and tisked when he saw the soft bruise of a too-hard kiss. "Oh, Anderson Number 2," he reprimanded, shaking his head in shame.

"Of all the names - " Cooper raised an eyebrow. "Titles…_Out of all of them_, that is the worst."

"Anderson Number _2_," Cooper repeated louder. He slung an arm around Blaine's shoulders, pulling him close in an intimidating sort of way. "I'll forgive and forget your teenage fornication - "

"We were kissing!"

"And I won't let it slip to Mom and Dad, say, over dinner tonight."

"_Coop_ - "

"If…"

"_If?_" Blaine prompted.

"If you'll stay after school with me tomorrow and help me pitch my acting seminar to the theater department."

"Is there a department at McKinley you _haven't_…educated yet?" Blaine asked warily.

"I'm still holding out for History," Cooper said with a determined look in his eye. "If it's the last thing I do…"

"What do you need my help for? As you so generously pointed out, I'm not an internationally beloved spokesman for the internet's fastest growing credit score website. _You_ are."

"And don't you forget it," Cooper told him, poking his chest. "No, but I was thinking that you and I could be like an act. Yeah!" he exclaimed when he saw Blaine's puzzled face. "That whole Duran Duran thing we did the other day was a hit! I mean, I was really fantastic – flawless, actually. And this would give you another chance to get it right – because I still stand by the critique I gave you when I told you you were a little off." He gave Blaine his best sympathetic look. "The theater kids will love that. Drama geeks eat that shit up."

"They're people, Coop. I don't think they'd appreciate being called drama geeks."

"Yeah, whatever," Cooper waved him off. "So will you help me out? We could do like a scene together – but you'll have to listen to my direction this time – and then we could do our musical number, really spark some interest. And I figured I could end it with a bang: this soliloquy I've been working on for a while. It's all about the universal human experience of _hair_. What do you think?"

Cooper's eyes were wide with excitement and pure zeal for what Kurt was sure he thought was a splendid idea. He could also see that Blaine really wanted to say no. But that wasn't the kind of person Blaine was. Come to him for help and he was sure to say yes, if not because of the sheer kindness in his heart.

"Teenage fornication," Cooper sing-songed, practically crushing Blaine to his chest.

"Fine," Blaine said quickly. "I'll do it. Then you'll take me shopping for the dinner thing-y - "

"I'm referring to it from this moment on as the Cooper Gala," the older brother informed him.

"And then you'll drop it," Blaine finished.

"I saw nothing," Cooper swore.

"Deal," Blaine agreed.

* * *

><p>"Coop," Blaine said the next day after the borderline disastrous acting seminar, "If you had told me that you were going to try and dress me like YOU then I never would've agreed to go shopping."<p>

"You need a new look, Ewok," Cooper admonished. "Haven't you realized that leather really suits you?"

Blaine shed the skintight leather jacket and handed it back to his brother. "No offense, Coop, but I really don't want to look like a mini-me tonight."

"Hate to break it to you, brother, but you couldn't look like me if you tried." He ruffled Blaine's hair until he pushed him away.

"Just do me a favor and don't start your own make-over show, okay?"

Cooper stopped in the middle of the store, looking as if he was seeing the light. "Now there's an idea…"

"Coop," Blaine warned. He walked up to his brother and snapped his fingers in front of Cooper's face. He didn't so much as blink. "Earth to Cooper, Earth to Cooper."

"Sorry," his brother apologized. "When inspiration strikes, it's just impossible to shake." He shuddered to make his point. "It's the curse of being a true artist."

"Sure it is," Blaine agreed, going back to browsing the racks.

"Look, we just have to get you something that says 'Hey, Aunt Sandra, I'm not five years old anymore'."

"Mmhmm," Blaine vaguely consented. "But at the same time says 'I'm not a manwhore, gigolo, or a douchebag.'"

"Yeah, well," Cooper sighed as he went through yet another rack of dark jackets. "When you find these magical talking clothes, let me know."

"You were the one who said it needed to say something!"

"Yes, because when you choke – which you will – you'll need your outfit to say what you can't."

Blaine crossed his arms. "You're uncouth," he said before walking a few feet away.

"Stay away from the bowties!" Cooper commanded.

Blaine made a "nnnn" sound and waved his brother off. "They're on sale."

"Booger, if you so much as touch that bowtie - "

"That's not my name and I never called myself that!"

"I swear to you, Blaine - "

Oh god, this was serious. Cooper used his actual _name_ and was _pointing_.

"I'm going to touch the bowtie - "

"I swear to you - "

"In 3…"

" – if you - "

"2…"

" – even think about it - "

"1!"

Cooper let out a war cry and leapt for Blaine. "_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_"

They landed in a heap on the floor of the store, wrestling around with the bowtie. A few people gasped and turned in their direction, but no doubt lost sight of them once they'd fallen between the racks.

Cooper pinned Blaine down and sat on his back, ripping the accessory from his fingers.

"You're crushing me!" Blaine complained.

"_No_…_bowties_…" Cooper panted.

* * *

><p>Blaine was clutching Kurt's hand like it was a lifeline. He had to be hurting him, but Kurt said nothing, only looked over to give him a reassuring smile.<p>

"Hey, it's going to be _fine_," he told Blaine softly.

"It's just like…not this established thing, my sexuality. Like there's not a discussion board on it," Blaine explained suddenly, struggling for words. "I mean, I'm not saying that they're going to bring out the pitchforks and torches, but I can't…guarantee anything."

"Don't worry about me," Kurt said, patting their clasped hands. "I can handle my share of unpleasant situations."

"What are you fretting for, Squirt?" Cooper asked from the driver's seat. "Tonight's going to be all about _moi_."

"Modest, isn't he?" Kurt teased.

"If you've got it, flaunt it," Cooper defended himself.

Kurt turned back to Blaine. "They'll be fighting over who gets to adopt me by dessert," he said confidently. "I promise."

"You're the best," Blaine told him.

"Hey," Cooper interjected from the front seat. "No kissy face in the car."

"And it's not just that. I haven't seen my Dad's side of the family since like Easter of last year, so I always get a little antsy. I'm not always like this, I swear," Blaine explained. "But it's been a while so it's like I have to make this effort to be extra calm and collected…"

"Clearly it's working," Coop commented as he turned onto the right street.

Blaine scowled in his brother's general direction. "Just remember, if you want to leave, we can," he told Kurt. "Just say the word and we'll - "

"Walk home?" Cooper supplied for him.

"…wait in the _car_," Blaine said defiantly. "And make kissy faces."

Kurt laughed. "Sounds like a plan. But I'll be fine."

Then Blaine was fine for a little while – honestly he was – just holding Kurt's hand as they walked up to the front door (Cooper bearing the bottle of wine he'd insisted on bringing, along with a signed photo of his face). Kurt straightened out Blaine's tie and dusted off his jacket. Yeah, he'd relented and let Coop buy him a jacket, but it was one of those cool layered ones with a hood and sleeve cuffs a lighter color. Graciously, it wasn't leather, but it did make him look good.

That paired with the simple tie, shirt, dark jeans, and not-quite dress shoes, and he actually looked his age for once; maybe a little older. He'd been tempted to wear his glasses, but Cooper took a swat at his head when he'd tried earlier.

Truthfully, he was a little more distracted by Kurt's outfit – because he looked so _good_. He was wearing a dark blue, long sleeved button down, under a sports jacket. And his tie wasn't a tie, it was more like string draped around his neck and clasped together at the front of his collar with a pendant. Blaine kind of secretly wishes they were alone so he could tell Kurt just _how much_ he appreciated the ensemble…

He'd remained calm when all the introductions were made – mostly because all his relatives paid about two seconds of attention to him and his mysterious guest before letting out cries of excitement and running to go touch Cooper's face ("Hey, be careful with the merchandise, folks.")

Cooper kept calling Kurt Blaine's "special friend" out of some misplaced desire to go to hell, or whatever, which made Kurt have to pipe up and correct, "boyfriend" every few minutes. But there was this little private smile that crept across Kurt's face every time said it and it was like Cooper knew there was this tiny satisfaction within the word, so he kept setting it up.

All the greetings were made in the high-ceilinged foyer and once all the hands and been shaken and hugs exchanged, the entire Anderson Clan (plus one Hummel) herded over to the kitchen.

Blaine's grandparents (aka Gramps and Grams Anderson) weren't by any means wealthy, but they had a nice, big single story house. The kitchen wasn't anything fancy, but it had that feeling of memories encased in every inch of it. Glancing over at Kurt, he looked very relaxed – kind of like how Blaine felt in the Hummel household.

A small group of people had already congregated around Cooper as he acted out he commercial for their entertainment pleasure – complete with staging and behind the scenes director's notes. Blaine hadn't realized that he'd been picking at his fingernails until he felt Kurt's fingertips slipping between the spaces of his.

"Relax," Kurt told him. "You're reminding me of me when we were about to perform our duet at Regionals."

"That bad?" Blaine asked.

"You said I was _adorable_," Kurt teased, narrowing his eyes. "I'll remember that."

"No, no, it was adorable. You _are_ adorable."

"Save it for later, Anderson," Kurt said with a wink. "I'm on good behavior tonight."

Blaine just shook his head, repressing a grin. It still amazed him how Kurt could make him forget his anxieties and take his mind to other places with a few words.

Cooper must've been done with his re-enactments for the moment, because he beckoned them over. Which basically translated to they couldn't decline.

"Stop whispering sweet nothings to one another," Coop said. "Come over here and sell your boyfriend to the fam."

"Well, in other news, Cooper couldn't possibly get any more embarrassing," Blaine announced to the few relatives lingering nearby. This was met by easy laughter. A majority of the guests were setting the table, doing last minute cleaning, or worrying over the food.

"I feel like I'm doing a presentation in school," Kurt joked. "Or like Blaine's auctioning me off or something."

More laughter. Kurt smiled, noticeably more reassured. Blaine lingered behind him, watching as Kurt tested the waters with his wry humor.

It wasn't a big event, by all means. Not even everyone was there and accounted for, but there were enough people to make the house seem busy and alive. And to Kurt, these were all new faces. But Blaine took a back seat (if you could call the arm of the couch that) and watched him work his magic.

He complimented Blaine's Aunt Lilah on her green broach, asking where she got it and at such a reasonable price. Then there was Uncle Peter, the college professor of the family, whom Kurt asked about college applications and transfer rates. He kept the conversation away from himself for the most part, which wasn't easy to do when most people were inquiring after his life story.

Unlike Cooper who had pulled a small group of cousins around himself and was speaking excitedly. "Well, where do I begin? I've been pointing naturally since I was one…"

They'd only been chatting for a few minutes when Blaine's mom, who'd been in the kitchen fussing over the food, ordered everyone into the formal living room. When she'd told him that "a few people were meeting at Grandma and Grandpa's", he didn't think she'd meant this. But this was family, and getting to see each other in the middle of the school year was a rarity.

There was this old, long table draped in a white tablecloth in the "formal dining room." It wasn't an actual room; just a space off to the side near the kitchen (because his grandparents were just two people and their kitchen table was just a small square which could never hope to seat more than four). This table had been here for as long as Blaine could remember.

Everyone crowded around the oblong piece of furniture, puling up chairs of all sorts where needed until they were a mish mash of seats. Blaine was oh so conveniently seated with Kurt towards the middle of the table on the piano bench, compliments of Cooper.

"Thanks, Coop," Blaine teased as he took his spot on the bench.

Cooper winked at him. "Just looking out, little bro."

"I bet the child prodigy that is now Blaine Anderson used to sit on this bench every Sunday afternoon after church and played Fur Elise for his grandparents," Kurt teased.

"Wow," Blaine said, putting on his best shocked face.

Coincidentally, Blaine had just been thinking about the same thing. His parents had put him in piano lessons when he was very young. He'd always wanted to play the piano, because there was an oak upright in their living room since the day he was born and he'd always been poking at the keys, trying to learn songs by ear. Playing the piano was something he loved to do – for himself.

But every time they went over to Blaine's grandparent's house for a visit, Blaine's mom would insist that he play a song for his grandparents because "they'd love to hear it, dear." The thing was that Blaine was very shy as a child (and looking back, maybe little exercises like this were what built up his confidence) and he'd always kick his feet and mutter about how he didn't want to. But his parents would hear nothing of it. So he'd climb onto the piano bench – this piano bench – and play a song. Even when he messed up horribly, he'd still get a standing ovation every time. The memory brought a small smile to his face.

"Am I spot on?" Kurt asked.

"No. It's just that, for you, that was a lot of judgments in one sentence."

Kurt shook his head and shoved Blaine's arm playfully. Cooper had taken the folding chair on Kurt's side and leaned in to whisper, "Hands where I can see 'em, boys."

"Oh, Cooper, stop harassing your little brother and Kurt," Uncle Noah joked. "You're supposed to be telling us what you've been doing out in Hollywood…"

And thus, before the food had even been served, Cooper was launching into his autobiography; everyone present hanging on to his every word as he described the big, scary state of California – of LA and Hollywood and how it was supposedly sprinkled with famous people every two feet. If you knew where to go, that is. He talked about all the commercials he'd been offered, though he decided to stick with the campaign. Or so he claimed.

Once the table had been properly set and the food all laid out as best as it could be (everyone was already bumping elbows as it was), and everyone was sitting, Blaine's grandma cleared her throat, bringing instant silence.

"Why did everyone stop talking?" Kurt whispered. "Is she going to give a speech? Please tell me she's not going to give a speech."

"No, she's going to say Grace," Blaine whispered back.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"Don't hosts usually pass that honor onto - "

"Kurt," the elderly woman addressed him properly for the first time. She'd mostly been in the kitchen up until this point. "Would you like to say Grace?"

"Um, sure," Kurt replied, his eyes wide. "Uh…Grace?"

This was met with a few titters here and there, Blaine had to bite back his own laugh.

"Well, I don't mean to be…disrespectful," Kurt told her, starting to flounder a bit. "But I don't really…"

"Kurt's not really religious, Grams," Blaine cut in. "Maybe you could do it instead?"

This was met with silence. Blaine had anticipated, of course, that some of his family was old fashioned, but this quiet was plainly laced with shock and judgment. Especially from the elderly people, for whom not going to church was just not acceptable – it wasn't done. He almost laughed at some of the looks on their faces, as if he'd brought in a heathen.

Blaine could tell Kurt was a little embarrassed as he fidgeted and twisted the corners of the napkin unfolded in his lap. He said nothing more, but just nodded as if to say, "_Yeah_…"

It was Cooper who came to Kurt's defense.

"You know what?" he piped up. "I've been away so long and I haven't said Grace in a while. Could I do it, Nana?"

"That'd be lovely, Cooper," their mom said with a friendly smile. Blaine could tell she was trying to be a good co-host and move things along accordingly.

Blaine rubbed Kurt's back before taking his hand. Kurt looked surprised, as if he'd forgotten his presence, but then he smiled and interlocked their fingers.

"I guess this is a legitimate excuse to hold your hand in front of everyone," he joked lightly.

"Don't forget me," Cooper said from his other side, grabbing Kurt's right hand. "Sweet, sweet Baby Jesus," he began.

"Why _Baby_ Jesus?" Kurt asked out of the side of his mouth as everyone else closed their eyes and bowed their heads.

Blaine shrugged. "Beats me," he answered.

"Than you for blessing us with this food and this family. I'm grateful that we're all fortunate enough to gather here tonight and may you keep us all safe on our journeys home. On a personal note, thank you for granting me these good looks, this hairline, and my _immense_ talent…"

"_Cooper_."

* * *

><p>"So, Kurt," one of Blaine's aunts prompted him. "Blaine's never told us how you met."<p>

He felt himself blushing almost immediately. It's not a story he's accustomed to telling, because it's so personal. Rarely does he like to admit that that was the day his life was saved. Even to his closest friends, he hadn't hashed out all the gritty details. Just that there was a good looking boy in a blazer who sang a Katy Perry song and gave him some advice over coffee. But suddenly everyone wanted to know.

"Oh, yes," Blaine's mom seconded as she diced up her meat into little squares. "I'm sure it's a great story."

"Actually it's kind of…strange," Kurt admitted, shooting a glance at Blaine who was either giggling or choking into his napkin – he wasn't sure which. "It probably wouldn't interest anyone."

This was met by a chorus of protests. _Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad_'s and _Tell the story, Kurt_'s. He put up his hands and shook his head. "I'm sure Blaine's told you himself, being as modest as he is."

Blaine's mom looked thoughtful. "No, actually. I don't think he's mentioned it. Just that you were a potential Dalton student and he talked to you for a while."

"The rest, as they say, is history," Blaine's dad joked, smiling at his wife.

The two of them were friendly enough to Kurt, but they never really talked. He was always welcome at their house, but they never had any of those sitcom moments where Kurt would sit in the kitchen and talk to them about all his problems. But this was a good chance to connect with them, right? It was a pretty good story, he thought to himself; one worthy of being told to his grandchildren someday. But then again, it was personal.

"Let me guess," Cooper offered.

" – Oh, Cooper's great at the guessing game," Blaine's grandfather said from his end of the table.

"So were you at Dalton for a tour of the campus and Blaine just annoyingly turned up and started showing you around? Then you found out he was at the top of his class and totally into you because he asked for your number before you left, right?"

Blaine and Kurt exchanged looks and started laughing. They couldn't help it – that was the worst guess that could've ever been guessed in the realm of guessing.

"What, am I right?" Cooper insisted. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes," Kurt replied solemnly.

"Yes?"

"No," Blaine answered this time. "No, Coop. You weren't even remotely close."

"Okay, so set the record straight," Cooper insisted, jabbing Kurt's right arm with his fork.

Kurt wasn't used to feeling shy, but now the only sounds were of spoons and forks scraping plates as everyone lent him their ears.

"I could start telling it," Blaine offered.

Kurt smiled, but shook his head. "No, I'll start. If you have something to add, just jump in."

Cooper sat back in his chair and crossed his arm. "This is going to be good."

"Okay, I was sort of…spying," Kurt admitted, speaking in a rush.

"I.E. read: stalking," Cooper muttered. It was Kurt's turn to jab in him in the arm with cutlery.

"It had been a difficult week at school, to say the least," he continued. "But, I mean, when isn't it? School sucks." This was met with laughter and he continued, feeling more assured. "It was a battle of the sexes in my show choir – some lesson for the week. The guys were all having a meeting and I was suggesting ideas for our performance, but some thought it was too…gay." He almost stopped talking altogether there, but Cooper gave him a nod and he went on. "I mean, they never _explicitly_ said it, but it was all over their faces. So they told me to go spy on the Warblers – get a leg up on the competition and make myself useful." He laughed to himself.

Blaine picked it up, not missing a beat. "So earlier that day the Warblers had decided to put on an impromptu performance in the Senior Commons, so it was a big day. We'd spread the word all around campus and everyone was going to be there. I'd actually forgotten my tie in my dorm room after my last class, so I had run back and gotten it. Actually, I thought I was going to be late. Could you imagine? I was singing lead and I was going to be _late_."

Kurt had never heard that part of the story, so he'd stopped eating focused on Blaine. "Really?"

"Yeah. So I was practically running to make it on time and then all of a sudden this _guy_ calls out to me…"

"Let me guess: it was Kurt," Cooper interjected.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yes, Cooper," he answered, drawing out his name in a condescending tone. "That's a fantastic observation."

"I didn't know what I was doing," Kurt admitted with a laugh. "I'd just put on a black jacket and a red tie and hoped I'd blend in. But being the idiot I am, I didn't realize that Dalton's uniform was navy blue and they had all this wacky piping and stripes…I wasn't hard to miss."

"So there he was," Blaine went on. "This kid I'd never seen before in my life wearing a black leather jacket and claiming he was new here. I knew he was lying from the first glance."

"No you didn't," Kurt argued.

"Oh, I did," Blaine countered. "So I introduced myself, being the gentleman my parents brought me up to be."

"Then I asked him where the heck all these guys were headed to. I'm telling you they were all swarming in the same direction. I almost got trampled on. Then I wouldn't be here to tell you fine folks the tale."

"And I told him how the Warblers were doing a performance, which would kind of shut the school down for a while. He lit up when I mentioned the Warblers, so I knew what he was there for." Kurt still grumbled his denial, but Blaine ignored him. "So I told him I had a shortcut," Blaine informed the table with a wink. "I didn't really have a shortcut," he whispered comically.

"But I followed him down this hallway anyways," Kurt continued, omitting the part about how Blaine took his hand. In fact, he took his hand now, under the table. "And he led me in a huge circle until we got to what I could only assume was the Senior Commons."

"Blainey, you _dog_," Cooper commented, reaching around Kurt's back and swatting Blaine's head.

"What can I say? I've got moves," Blaine answered with a shrug.

"Then, before I know it, this guy just…walks away from me, smirking as he does."

"I did not _smirk_," Blaine defended himself.

Kurt scoffed. "Oh there was definite smirk-age. Then he just starts singing…"

"I didn't just start _singing_," Blaine interjected. "The others starting singing before me and I just merely…joined in. And you guys should've seen the look on his face – he was so impressed with me."

"I honestly hadn't caught on," Kurt informed his audience. "For a moment I was just thinking 'What's going on? What's that guy doing?' - "

"Winning you heart – Anderson style," Cooper supplied.

"And then I realized that he must've seen right through me," Kurt said. "It was pretty childish."

"Afterwards, Wes, David, and I – you guys remember Wes and David – took Kurt out to get coffee. That's when he told me he was having…trouble in school."

"Also what a terrible spy I was," Kurt added, kicking Blaine's leg lightly. "Because of my dazzling wit, Blaine wanted me to come to Dalton right away," he teased.

"I did _not_," Blaine replied indignantly. "I explicitly stated that bullies had driven me away from my old school and it was something I really regretted."

Kurt's eye's flickered to Blaine's parents' face, something like guilt encroaching on their features. He realized that this might've been the first time Blaine had ever admitted that out loud. Blaine didn't seem bothered at all, it being an established fact in his life for so long, but a few others looked down at their plates.

"So he told me to refuse to be the victim," Kurt said, nodding his head. "Well, I guess you all knew how that worked out – I ended up transferring to Dalton for a while."

"But you went back," Blaine pointed out.

Kurt smiled. _And you came with me_, he thought, not saying the words aloud. "And that's basically it," he said, remembering that they were telling a story. "He gave me his number in case I needed anymore help. He probably thought I'd never use it…"

"Trust me, he was desperately hoping you'd use it," Cooper interjected.

"_Cooper_," Blaine hissed.

"What? It was endearing."

"And yeah," Kurt cut in, sensing a sibling brawl coming on. "That's it really."

Blaine's mom sighed. "That was a nice story, dear."

"No," Cooper corrected her, turning to give Kurt a small smile, "It was a beginning."

* * *

><p>Later that night when Blaine was dropping Kurt off, he put the car into park and killed the engine.<p>

"So that was only _slightly_ awkward, right?" he asked.

Kurt laughed. "Yeah, it wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."

"First time's always the most difficult," Blaine promised. "Maybe you could come over for the next major holiday."

"Sure, how's the fourth of July sound?" Kurt teased.

"I always loved some good fireworks."

"Is that so?" Kurt asked, settling back in his seat.

He reached over and pulled Blaine by the tie until they were both pretty much in the passenger seat.

Blaine's hands were braced against the back of Kurt's seat as he was kissed. Kurt put his hands under Blaine's jacket, but over his shirt and just held him there as Blaine moved a hand to cup his cheek.

This went on for a few minutes until they realized that a car was entirely too small of a space to be very thorough. As Blaine kissed Kurt's neck, he lowered himself back into the driver's seat.

"Thanks," he said, in a broken voice.

Kurt giggled. "For what? For kissing you?"

"No," Blaine said, pushing Kurt's leg. "For being a good sport."

"Well thanks for inviting me," Kurt countered, leaning over the gear shift for another kiss.

He was granted yet another round of slow, soft lips brushing over his and fingers running through his hair. But Blaine was ever the gentleman, and pressed one last, lingering kiss to Kurt's mouth with a gentle, "Goodnight."

And as Kurt walked from the car to the door, he took his phone out and happily crossed yet another item from his list with pride:

#34 Be introduced as "The Boyfriend"

* * *

><p><em>April 14th, 2012<em>

"I have a surprise for you," Kurt greeted Blaine at his locker a few days later.

"Good morning to you too, Kurt," Blaine replied, pulling out his History textbook. "I'm great, by the way. How are you? Isn't today just great? Fucking _resplendent._" He slammed his locked door shut, causing Kurt to start.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Blaine shrugged, leaning a shoulder against the panel of lockers. "Could be better."

"Is it the Cooper thing?"

"Yes," Blaine groaned. "He's _killing_ me at home."

"Well, I doubt _that _since you seem to still be breathing," Kurt joked. But Blaine didn't even crack a smile. "Okay, I think it's time for an little KHI: Kurt Hummel Intervention."

Blaine laughed, not in a humorous way, but in exasperation – each intake of breath almost sounding like an insult. "No," he started protesting before Kurt could even get to the best part. "Not today. Please, Kurt."

"You didn't even let me finish," Kurt pouted.

He smiled a bit at that, but was still shaking his head. After a moment, he sighed. "Okay. Go on."

"Promise not to argue until I'm done," Kurt requested, raising his eyebrows in anticipation of a tantrum.

Blaine pretended to think about it for a minute. He always enjoyed making Kurt wait and this was no exception. He waited a good minute, just tapping his chin and pondering.

"I promise," he said at last.

"We're going to take the day off - "

"But - "

"Shh, you promised," Kurt reminded him.

Blaine opened his mouth, already formulating his next defense, but Kurt was quicker than he was and pressed his fingers over his boyfriend's lips.

"_Blaine_," he warned.

The shorter boy's shoulders sagged and he gave up. "Mmmfph," he agreed.

"Brilliant," Kurt said, not removing his hand. "Now, you and I are going to go home, mysteriously sick, and I have a little…project for us to do."

"Am I free to speak now?" Blaine asked around Kurt's fingertips.

"You may," he replied, feeling rather pleased with himself.

Blaine took Kurt's hand in his own – the one that had been keeping him silent. "Kurt," he began. "Not today. I'm begging you. I'll go on scavenger hunts, go on shopping sprees, and jump out of planes any other day you'd ask me to. But not today, _please_."

"I would never ask you to jump out of a plane," Kurt pointed out.

"_No_."

"Why not?"

"I have a bunch of homework due, for starters. I have a presentation to give in English on 'Of Mice and Men'. Which, I mean, was a decent read but it wasn't like mind-blowing, so it'll be five minutes of torture both on my part _and_ the class's part…"

"Give Tina your homework. She'll make sure it gets where it needs to go. And presentations always spill over to the next day anyways."

"But my last name is Anderson - "

"So you'll tell your teacher you caught the one-day flu. I'll even forge a doctor's note if you like. 'To whom it may concern, Blaine needs a goddamn break. Signed, Doctor Chicken-Scratch.'"

"Kurt, no."

"It'll be fun though," he insisted. "With the Hummel Seal of Satisfaction Guarantee."

"I'm not really in the greatest of moods," Blaine maintained. "I'm sorry, but you can't afford to miss another day of school this week anyways."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine, honestly, you're such a worry wart. You're going to give yourself wrinkles is what you're going to do." Blaine just scowled at him. "I'm taken care of," Kurt told him. "All my classes are reviewing for Finals anyways, and Rachel swore on her NYADA audition that she'd take notes in the classes we share."

"I just…I don't think I'm up to it," Blaine went on, pressing the edge of his forehead against his locker as if he had a sudden headache and the metal was supposed to be soothing him. "I had that dumb fight with Coop and he's been harassing me at home and following me to school. I was kind of looking forward to the dull, methodical ease of just sitting in a desk and doing nothing."

"If you're using school as your vacation time, something is seriously wrong…"

"Yeah, I just want everyone to leave me alone!" Blaine snapped. Kurt's face must've shown some amount of hurt because he quickly took a step closer. "I'm sorry," he apologized immediately. "I'm _not_ mad at you, I swear. It's just this whole week, you know?"

"_Trust_ me," Kurt said, clutching Blaine's hand to his chest. "You want to do this with me."

"Why?" Blaine asked, his curiosity peaked despite his short temper.

Kurt shrugged. "You only gave me the idea yourself."

"I did?" Blaine's face scrunched up in confusion. "When?"

"You leave your list everywhere – or have you forgotten?"

"Hey, I am _organized_ - "

"You left this one tacked on my bathroom mirror. Probably during the course of late night inspiration, no doubt."

"No I didn't - "

"Finn found it and I had to say that it was for a homework assignment. He bought it."

"I honestly don't remember that," Blaine insisted.

"No, well I wouldn't expect you to," Kurt teased. "So just forget Cooper, forget glee club, and forget school. Just for today."

"You seem hell-bent on getting me to ditch school this week," Blaine said, seeming to soften at Kurt's words. "It seems I won't be able to resume my responsibilities until I give in."

"That's the spirit."

"And my parents thought I'd be a bad influence on _you_," he mused.

"They did?"

"No. Hello, have you _met_ me?"

"Oh, so now he has jokes," Kurt taunted, pulling Blaine by the hand. "Blaine, you don't look so well." He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "We'll have to get you home right away."

"Now that you mention it, I do feel a little funny," Blaine agreed, playing along. He touched his hand to his forehead. "I might be coming down with a fever."

"Well we can't have that," Kurt said, starting to mock-fuss over him. "We'll have to take you home right away."

"I only hope I won't inconvenience too many people with my absence," Blaine added as they strode towards the parking lot.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be sorely missed."

* * *

><p>"What are we <em>doing<em> here?" he asked Kurt, starting to feel a little gypped out here.

"This is where the magic happens," he heard Kurt call out from the closet. "I told you we were going to go to my house."

"Yeah but I thought that was just an extension of the 'sick day' metaphor," Blaine replied, sitting sullenly on the end of Kurt's bed. "I swear, if this project is to clean your room, I will leave right now."

"It's not," Kurt promised. "I'm only in here to change."

"What, the long-tailed, checkered jacket and suspenders with gold clasps weren't casual enough for you?

"Ha ha _HA_," Kurt replied hollowly. "No, actually. They were not. Okay, don't make fun of my outfit," he announced before re-entering the room.

He was wearing something…normal. Yet not. Blaine felt he had slipped into an alternate reality. Kurt was wearing a rare outfit – all white, of course, because _some_ aspect of it needed to be fashionable - an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt with an undershirt beneath it and white shorts, cut off just above the knee.

"You look…great," Blaine said a bit breathlessly. "But what's the occasion?"

"Nnnn," Kurt shook his head, making noises of disapproval. "No hints until you change."

Blaine laughed, figuring Kurt was just trying to be funny. He pulled up short when he wasn't joined in his amusement.

"This isn't my house," he pointed out stupidly. "Where am I supposed to find a change of clothes?"

"In your drawer," Kurt replied. The implied duh was left unsaid.

"I-I have a…_drawer?_" Blaine choked out.

"Don't get all emotional on me," Kurt told him, striding over to the dresser. "I just thought it'd come in handy, so I've been sort of swiping a few articles of clothing from your room every time we go to your house." The confession came out rushed and only slightly embarrassed.

"Shit, that was you?" Blaine was still a bit in shock. "This morning I ripped into Coop because I was sure he was stealing my socks again."

"Nope, it was just me," Kurt said, looking rather entertained. "Word to the wise, though," he added as Blaine looked into the drawer, "Pick something you won't miss, because chances are there will be unwashable stains."

"_Unwashable stains?_" Blaine repeated dubiously. "You expect me to believe that you're wearing an all white get-up in preparation for _unwashable stains?_"

"Well, I, unlike you, am fashionable - "

"Oh, _thanks_."

" – And I have every intention of rewearing these clothes, stains and all. It'll be a homemade, authentic fashion statement."

Blaine felt himself narrowing his eyes. "Curiouser and curiouser," he mumbled to himself. "Fine, I'll blindly trust you - since I don't seem to have any other choice."

He searched for his oldest clothes out of the surprisingly well-stocked drawer. And, wow, had he _really_ not noticed all these articles of clothing going missing? He really _did_ need a vacation.

In the end, he swapped his school clothes for an old, green and white striped tank top (practically see through with age) under his gray sweater – the one he intended on replacing anyways – unzipped with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He donned his oldest pair of sweats that he rolled up to his ankles. He left his feet bare, seeing as how he didn't want to ruin a perfectly good pair of socks.

"Am I decent now?" he asked, holding his arms out for inspection as Kurt circled him.

"Much better," the other boy approved. "Now it's time to get dirty."

"Oh, _God,_" Blaine groaned.

But Kurt had already grabbed his hand and was leading him downstairs…into a completely empty room with blank, white walls. Something plastic crinkled underfoot as they entered, and Blaine realized the wood floor had been tarped.

His suspicions were confirmed when he spotted buckets upon buckets of open paint. Then, oh whoa, the scent hit him like a ton of bricks. There was no question what was happening here.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked delicately. "I don't mean to be forward, but what the hell is going on here?" Well, he figured he should still ask – come on.

"Isn't it obvious?" Kurt replied, clapping his hands together.

"Uh huh," Blaine said, feeling a little detached. "And you say you got this idea from me?"

"Yep," Kurt answered, beaming. "Read it." He took out a neon-pink post-it from his back pocket.

Oh yeah, that was _definitely_ in Blaine's own handwriting. He might've even remembered glimpses of the night he'd written it, scrawling it out in the dark. But had he really stuck it on Kurt's bathroom mirror? That, he couldn't remember.

"Okay," he yielded. "I admit that I wrote this. But are we really _qualified_ to be doing this? Your parents will hate me. They paid for this house and therefore this room."

"Just because they're both not here doesn't mean I don't have permission," Kurt told him with a light shove. "Where do you think the paint came from?"

That was a good point, Blaine decided. There were dozens of quarts and pints, of every color and every shade. It was just a huge rainbow of paint, waiting to be used.

"Okay, where did it come from then?"

Kurt crossed his arms, looking smug. "My dad has an in at the hardware store. All I had to do was show up and pick up the goods."

"The goods?" Blaine repeated, trying to hold back a snort.

"Yes, the _goods,_" Kurt said, not hesitating to stick his tongue out at Blaine like a child.

"I doubt Carole would let us defile her walls," Blaine argued, still in denial that this was in any way socially acceptable.

"Oh, no, she _insisted_." Kurt lit up at Blaine's disbelief, which seemed to be growing by the minute. "You see, she loves to collect contemporary art and she's bought a few pieces, but has no where to display them."

"I see," Blaine mumbled. "So this would be her…"

"Art slash guest room," Kurt finished for him, holding out his hands in the shape of a frame. "She's going to paint three of the walls red, and has graciously asked us to provide the fourth wall – the accent wall."

"Oooooh," Blaine cheered, doing poorly executed jazz hands as he did. "She does know that we are high school boys with _zero_ art experience, right?"

"No, I might've forgotten to tell her that," Kurt replied sarcastically. "Of course she knows."

"And she knows we can't exactly offer her a mural or anything?"

"No!" Kurt exclaimed. "That's the fun part. We can do whatever want."

"And it's okay?"

"It's_ okay_."

"But aren't you forgetting something?" Blaine asked.

Kurt looked around, perplexed. "What?"

"Paint brushes."

Kurt looked relieved, then he laughed as if that were the silliest thing Blaine had ever said to him. "We're not using paint brushes."

"But you said we could do whatever we wanted."

"Yes."

"Well what if what I wanted to do required the use of a paint brush?" he teased.

"Blaine, we artists - " (he said it like ar-_teests_) " – do not use paint brushes. They inhibit the creative process. We must be new – fresh."

"Contemporary?" Blaine supplied with a smile.

Kurt grinned back. "Exactly."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

* * *

><p>Blaine couldn't remember the last time he had this much <em>fun<em>. He wasn't thinking about anything at all – not even creation itself. It was madness. There was paint in his hair and his clothes and on the accent wall – or whatever Kurt had called it – and he was at peace.

Tired as hell, but at peace.

They'd started off sitting in the middle of the floor, pretending to be artists struck by a vision. They measure the space by squinting, shutting their opposite eyes, and tilting their thumbs sideways.

"I'm feeling a romantic era, renaissance inspired piece emerging from the depths," Blaine told Kurt. "How about you?"

"I don't know," Kurt mused. "I keep getting a humanistic, Goth kind of vibe. Mixed with a little mannerism impressionistic flair."

"Yes," Blaine replied. "Now that you mention it, I see exactly what you mean."

Then they'd gotten up and started looking around all the colors. There was quite an array of choices: bold reds, brazen blues, rich purples, soft greens, plain grays, bright yellows, loud pinks, and every other color inbetween.

Blaine didn't stop to think, didn't ask for permission, didn't hesitate. He just bent down and dipped a finger into a teal mixture and smeared it across the wall in a low arc.

If one has never colored outside the lines, then there's no way to describe this feeling of absolute freedom; where the page is everything and everything is the page. Or should he say, wall. In a world where paint, one of the most permanent forces, is almost repulsed – don't get it on your clothes, don't spill any on the floor, don't dirty any where else – and constricted only to the final product after all the ideas have been mapped out, brain stormed and approved, it is a relief to just _smear_ something with no real purpose.

Akin to a child using their crayons and markers to draw on the walls. Only no angry parent would come storming in with a bottle of cleaner and erase your masterpiece, yelling all the while. No, this was here to say and there was no one to tell him no. And it was literally at his fingertips – and it was sweet.

The liquid was cool on his fingertips and he let the excess drip onto the tarped floor as he stood back to admire his solitary smear of paint.

What a fine smear it was – and it was _his_.

He could see the indentation of his fingers and the tendrils of paint dripping down the wall. He could see where the edges of his fingertips ended and the surplus paint created miniscule hills to the valley of his touch. His smudge was crying, he thought to himself, small tears of iridescence.

That was when he really saw the blank canvas in front of him. He had foot after foot of wall to cover and he was just getting started. He didn't even know how it was going to turn out – it could possibly be the most hideous wall in all of a America for all he knew – but at the end of the day it would be _his_.

"Art," Kurt mused, appearing beside him.

Blaine nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed. "Art," he agreed.

Kurt pressed something soft into Blaine's hand: a sponge. "What do you say we pretend this wall is Cooper's very attractive head and we throw things at it."

Blaine laughed and turned his sponge over in his hand. "Let's do it."

It was the weirdest, best thing he'd ever done. Kurt put on some classical music – with sweeping violins and tinkling pianos – that seemed the stark opposite of their actions as they began throwing sponges.

First, they dropped one sponge in every bucket – no small task. Then they exchanged looks, like two cowboys about to draw their guns in a shoot out; fingers twitching towards their holsters (or, in this case, cans of paint).

"Go!" shouted Kurt. And they went.

It wasn't a race or anything, but they were making a game out of it. There were no established rules, but it seemed like whoever got the least amount of paint on them was winning. But Blaine couldn't be sure because it soon became a war zone of flying sponges – them vs. the wall.

He scooped up a sponge seeped in purple and hurled it towards the huge white expanse. It stuck with a _splat_, seeming to explode with color. Branches of purple flung out from beyond the sponge, creating an collection of asymmetrical splatters as the sponge itself left behind a cool, inverted rectangle shape from the way Blaine had folded it upon itself. His hands were already a mess, but that didn't stop him.

Kurt emerged from behind him and made to throw an orange sponge at his face, but Blaine ducked just in time and it whizzed harmlessly over his head. Well, mostly harmlessly, because its entrails flew behind it and he could feel the cool, heavy drops landing somewhere in his hair. But it was around that point that he realized he didn't care.

He ran across the room and took a sponge soaked in yellow and ran back to the wall where he adorned the white with a golden zig zag. Then he stuck the sponge to the wall and watched it slowly, slide down – dark at first, but then lighter and lighter until it ran out of substance before finally hitting the floor with a soft squishing noise.

He put it back in its rightful bucket and looked down at his hands, slick with paint – purple and yellow and a bunch of other hues – and he rubbed his palms together, forming a color that had no real name. Then he pressed his hands to the wall and dragged downward, purposefully spacing his fingers equidistantly. The result almost looked like someone had been dragged away against their will.

Kurt got up from the tarp where he'd been finger-painting patterns and went to grab a sponge swollen in burgundy. He hurtled it at the wall, causing it to land a few mere inches from Blaine's head.

Blaine picked up the sponge and squeezed the surplus color onto his hands. If someone had walked in right then and there, they might have believed it to be blood spilling out a fresh wound. He flicked it in Kurt's direction, feeling satisfied when it left a few splatters on his skin and sleeve.

Kurt growled, as frightening as a kitten, and glared at him. "You will live to regret that," he promised from across the room. "Keep your guard up, because when you least expect it…"

Blaine just ignored him and went back to target practice, careful to avoid the patterns Kurt had etched out. He tossed one sponge after another, sometimes grabbing up to five at a time and just letting them land where they pleased. It wasn't his conscious doing anymore – he wasn't choosing out colors, deciding placement, or trying to even create anything – it was just _happening_ and he was merely witnessing it.

Colors mixed and swirled, spattered and scattered, ran and trickled. Sponges clung to the wall like suction cups, slowly inching their way to the ground where they'd end with a _crunch_ against the tarp.

Then the wall was sobbing, great big tears of brown and pink and white and orange. Droplets trailed down his canvas and he stood by and watched, much like one would watch the droplets spread across a car window while speeding along a highway. Which direction would they go? Never straight down.

They crawled diagonally and side to side, shrinking and expanding as they blazed their own unique trails. Intersecting with other streams of color, joining forces into one communal droplet, then splitting into two again, emerging completely new colors. Oranges married yellows, peaches divorced blues, greens avoided purples, and reds were civil with browns that transformed into umbers.

When the wall was more or less covered with tears and splotches of paint, they washed their hands and waited. They sat on a clean area of tarp and ate sandwiches, drank juice, and made fun of the stains already present on their clothing. Blaine rested his head in Kurt's lap as they quietly observed their first "coat", if it could be called that.

There was no need for words; there was the silent command and reverence of craftsmanship in the room - such as one would find in a museum or a church with marble parapets and stone demons. The wall said everything and nothing. It was loud enough to smother the silence and capture the attention.

Blaine frowned at the wall, his canvas, thinking about his next move. Would he be like Kurt and try to draw a concrete pattern here and there or would he continue to let it create itself? He thought the latter, having no real artistic motivation but to get his hands dirty.

And that was fine – so maybe he wasn't a Van Gogh, but hey, at least he'd get to keep both his ears.

They waited another hour, considering the wall and all its potential out of respect. Blaine made sure to walk up to it and check that it was dry to the touch. The paint was potent, but no longer wet.

He took a strange sense of satisfaction from the congealed paint blobs that never quite made it to the floor.

Like melted stems of water that froze into ice at the last second; tears that had dried before rolling off the face, or a sentence never finished – just open ended and begging for conclusion, resolution, absolution with no hope of ever achieving it. Like a story that ended in a question; forever plaguing the mind of the reader. So were these droplets - incomplete art dried before it had the chance to speak. Or so it would seem.

He ran his fingers over the uneven grooves, as a blind man would touch the face of a stranger: just feeling and memorizing the sensation.

"It looks great so far," Kurt commented, smearing a glob of navy blue paint on the wall as he did. He manipulated the shape with his fingers. "What is your vision, Mr. Anderson?"

"Soft-spoken, yet obvious," Blaine answered in jest. "See that red there? That symbolizes my tortured youth – a childhood lost. Oh, and that yellow triangle over there?" He pointed. "That indicates my future: the arrow directing me to my path. Can't you infer anything from art?"

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, yes I can. It's all so clear to me now. And that blob of pink represents Pepto Bismol, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, you are not mistaken," Blaine answered solemnly.

More nodding. "Quite. And that strange blossom of purple – does that not signify your breath after you've had a few drinks? See how it reaches out to the world and changes into red fire-breath."

"You have a sharp eye."

"I'm trained in the ways of fine art," Kurt replied. He dipped his fingertips in five different colors and flicked them across a patch of gray. "Can't you tell by my unsurpassed skill?"

"The student has become the teacher," he agreed.

Blaine dipped his knuckles in black and pressed them one by one onto the wall. Then he dipped the knuckles on his other hand in white and created an echo of the other marks.

He wiped his hands on the stained, wet cloth to rid them of the black when he was hit by the overwhelming urge to just throw handfuls of paint.

"May I?" he asked Kurt, who was still doing some fancy finger work.

"Did Monet ask for permission before he painted his water lilies? Did Michaelangelo doubt the Sistine Chapel?"

"I see you only answer with rhetorical questions."

"Do I?"

Blaine immersed a hand in a sea foam green paint bucket. He wiggled his fingers around in the liquid, loving the feeling of color running between the crevices of his hand. He lifted it out and before it could all drip away, he catapulted it.

It was really something to see about forty percent of the paint catch while the other sixty ricocheted and dropped to the floor. Now this was the kind of experimentation he could get behind.

He ran to another bucket and did the same thing, only making sure this time for his paint to splatter upwards. Then he took big blobs of paint on the tips of his fingers and pressed them on various points so that they could bleed as they pleased. Quickly, he moved onto the next stretch of wall and took another handful of paint, not even caring how awfully he was mixing and remixing the colors with one another, and hurled it with all his might.

And it landed on the wall – well some of it. The other half was on Kurt's back and hair.

Kurt gasped and choked out something between a laugh and a sob. He stood up, grabbed the nearest bucket and armed himself with his own glob of paint.

Then all _hell_ broke loose.

They were flinging paint at each other, chasing their opponent around the room. Some paint got on the wall, leaving interesting splash patterns, but most of it got on a) the floor or b) themselves.

Blaine reached out as Kurt was reloading and swiped a paint-covered thumb across his cheek.

"That's my face!" Kurt cried pointlessly, laughing in disbelief.

"I know!" Blaine answered.

Kurt grabbed Blaine's exposed arm, smearing him in lavender. His fingertips were warm, but the paint was shockingly cool and gelid. There was a hand-shaped print left of his arm.

Then Blaine got a wicked idea.

He grabbed Kurt and kissed him. Honestly, this was no chaste peck – he was kissing him _senseless_. Using his mouth to stir Kurt into a tizzy, the way only he knew how. And, sure enough, all plans of revenge fled Kurt's mind; Blaine could _feel_ it.

That's why he grabbed the front of Kurt's shirt with both of his hands and pulled him closer. Then Kurt gasped into his open mouth because he realized: Blaine's hands were still wet with fresh paint.

Then it was a different kind of battle – the kind with no defeat or end.

Blaine pushed Kurt down onto the tarp – still fraught with undried paint if their feet were any indication. Kurt was giggling as he dipped his thumb in a nearby pail of silver and dabbed it on Blaine's forehead.

Blaine sat on Kurt's stomach and spotted a bucket of magenta. He swiped both hands across the surface and held them up for Kurt to see.

"No!" Kurt squealed. "No, Blaine! _NO!_"

Blaine cupped Kurt's face in his hand and kissed him. It wasn't much of a kiss because they were still both shaking with laughter and that was just making their lips do interesting things.

He pulled back and admired his handiwork. He kind of liked it in a strange way – the purple fingertips arching up over Kurt's cheeks, ending just below his ears and inches below his eyes. Because those were his hands and they molded that way _every_ time he touched Kurt like this – only he could see it now.

Kurt moved to wipe the paint smudges away, but Blaine caught his hand.

"No, don't," he pleaded.

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "Am I your new canvas?" he teased.

"Try it," Blaine told him, sitting back on his heels.

He didn't have to be bid twice; Kurt skimmed a palm over the nearest bucket of sunset orange and grabbed Blaine by the chin for a kiss.

The slide of cool, wet paint was a slight shock upon first contact, but then it clung to his skin and warmed up. It felt like rain, chilled and damp. Only rain dried or ran off the skin; it got absorbed in the clothing and then disappeared. But this did not.

Kurt pulled back, chuckling at his work. "Yes, I can see the appeal."

And that's how they found themselves practically rolling in paint, dipping their hands in new colors and then just resuming their normal paths like clutching another closely or running hands down the back of each other's shirts; grabbing clothes and skin and leaving multicolored marks that didn't just fluster and vanish, but remained.

Then when their clothes were both artfully stained enough, they just moved on to the skin beneath. They shed their clothes and sat cross-legged in front of one another and touched.

Blaine dipped his fingers in light blue as Kurt leaned in to kiss him, then pressed his hand to Kurt's shoulder, pulling him closer. His hand moved downward across the span of Kurt's chest and Blaine felt him draw in a quick breath from the temperature change.

He felt a slippery hand tracing his stomach as his lips moved down Kurt's neck, careful to avoid any colored patches. Kurt's fingernails digging into his skin were muted by the slick paint, but they dug in all the same as Blaine's tongue dragged across his throat.

Kurt hands skirted down Blaine's back and grabbed his ass through his sweats. Blaine was laughing because now he would have to hand prints on his butt every time he wore these sweats again – and he intended to.

Blaine hadn't realized that he had crawled right into Kurt's lap, his legs crossed behind the other boy's back. But he saw that he was when he pulled back, still giggling. They were an absolute _mess._ Various colored handprints _everywhere_. Blaine tried to trace each pattern with his eyes, trying to remember what he'd been doing when he made that mark or what he was feeling. Each print had its own story.

He could only imagine how _he_ looked – face, chest, stomach, legs, and back all covered in paint. And still he drew on Kurt. He would kiss each patch of bare skin before painting tiny words or pictures over them. He drew a pink heart over the center of Kurt's chest and wrote "Without his love, I can do nothing" along his side.

It must've tickled, but Kurt held still.

Then he leaned forward and kissed Blaine, pressing their chests together so that any undried paint would merge and mix and stick onto both of them. But Blaine wasn't really thinking about that because Kurt's mouth was on his and he had his arms around his back and Kurt's fingers were in his hair, probably making a great big mess - but what did that matter?

Kurt leaned back and laughed as he tried to fix Blaine's hair. "I'm sorry, I really messed it up," he said between laughs. "You have so much paint in your hair."

"It's okay. I don't care," Blaine told him, fingering the splatters of color on Kurt's cheek. "Really."

"But - "

Blaine caught Kurt's protest with a kiss. "I don't care."

* * *

><p>An hour later they had put their horribly stained clothes back on and were cleaning up some of the mess.<p>

Well, Blaine was cleaning up. Kurt was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, painting something with his fingertips along the baseboard. Blaine had to come up behind him and sit down just to see what it was: a skyline. He was using rough blacks and murky grays to trace lobsided buildings and hunched sky scrapers with his bare fingers. Then he dipped his hands in water, wiped them, and blanketed them in blue.

He used his palms to act as sponges to dab out a small segment of sky for his tiny city - New York, Blaine presumed with a smile - until the dark and light blues alike created a deep evening feeling.

Blaine washed his own hands and soaked all ten of his fingertips in yellow. Then he created the stars; starts as bright and beautiful as Kurt. He knelt down and let his fingers walk across the blue, giving the bleak sky the light it so craved.

"Now Dad and Carole will have their own tiny piece of New York," Kurt explained, admiring their handiwork.

The rest of the wall was already dry for the most part and covered well, but this little piece at least would remain untouched.

Carole came home a grand total of ten minutes later, coming into the room to see their completed masterpiece.

"Boys, it looks fantastic!" she exclaimed, ignoring them altogether. "It's wonder - Kurt," she gasped, going up to him and seeing the paint marks he couldn't cover up - such as the fingertips on his face and nose and neck. "What happened to you two? Blaine, honey, your hair looks like it's been through a war."

She moved over to him and tisked, trying to comb through the painted tangles with her fingers to no avail. "You're going to have a hard time washing that out, dear."

"It was worth it," he told her with a smile.

Kurt walked over and put his arm around Blaine's shoulder, to which Blaine graciously obliged with an arm around his waist. "So what do you think, Carole?" he asked. "Think you'll be hiring Blaine to paint my room after I leave?"

"Why would you want to paint your room if you're leaving?" Blaine asked stupidly.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that just yet," Carole said before exiting the room. "I have to go unload the groceries. You're welcome to stay for dinner, Blaine."

"I'll be right there," Kurt told her. "Oh, no reason," he said to Blaine, answering his question. "It's just like, I don't intend on coming back except for holidays and maybe here and there around the summer. So it won't be my room anymore." He shrugged. "They can do what they want with it."

"Oh..." was all Blaine could think to say.

"But we make a pretty good team, you and I, don't we?" Kurt thought to himself.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. "We do."

"Come on," Kurt said, grabbing Blaine's hand. "Let's go help Carole."

Blaine let himself be tugged along, but all of a sudden he felt numb and the happiness and relaxation that afternoon had brought him was draining right out of him. Because suddenly he thought something he'd never thought of before:

_I could lose him._

* * *

><p><em>AN: I know it's been a long time, but trust me when I tell you that since my spring break ended - say, oh, in the beginning of March - all of my professors' missions in life are to make my life a living hell. Finals are only a few mere weeks away so I'm swamped with work! But I hope that my absence has been forgiven with this here 17K+ chapter hehe. Who says I don't deliver?_

_So as you can see, in the canon-sense, I'm a few weeks behind. I didn't even expect to include Cooper in BID, but he was there and it was a great addition, I felt! For me, BID is kind of a fill-in-the-holes, refer to canon plots type of story that I have very many romantic liberties in. But after Dance With Somebody (still sobbing inside) I think it'd be only right for the next chapter of BID to be an interlude with the missing scenes and backstory from that episode. I've already got it in the works and I feel like after I write it, I will be able to carry on with my care-free, romantic story I have going on here._

_Also, I am a big, big ball of cheese, alright._

_So I hope you liked it, it was really fun to write! Until next time, whenever that may be!_

**_Review and leave me thoughts, my loves (:_**


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